The Last Frontier
by Invader Sam
Summary: After driving off into the night, having escaped the Neo-Nazi complex, Jesse Pinkman finds his way to Bear Creek, Alaska. With a new name, and hopes for a new life, he tries to reclaim his humanity in this tiny mountain town. Rated T through Chapter 10 - the M rating really only kicks in at Chapter 11.
1. Chapter 1

"Maggie, can you meet the truck outside? We've got new kegs coming in."

A head of short red curls bobbed from across the bar. "You got it."

From the doorway of his office Wyatt Jackson watched his young bartender hoist herself up over the well-worn wooden bar top and cringed. "The door, Maggie! That poor bar's been through enough."

"Oh relax, Wy," she said, planting her work boots on the floor, "As if I could actually do any damage." She gestured at her petite frame and then trotted for the front door, weaving between the tables with practiced skill and speed.

Wyatt shook his head, then crossed to the bar to inspect for dings or scuffmarks.

In the entryway, Maggie Sawyer grabbed her jean jacket from its hook and slipped it on as she pushed the door open with her hip. She squinted as the morning sun hit her face and fumbled to get her aviator sunglasses from her front jacket pocket. Once the UV-ray blockers were properly in place, she surveyed the scene. As usual, the beer distribution truck was idling on the street, its wide girth blocking traffic. She jogged down the building steps and hopped up to lean into the cab. "Hey there, think you can do me a favor?"

The driver, a young man she could tell had come in from Anchorage (the Starbucks cup in his console was a dead giveaway), nodded. "Yes ma'am, sure ma'am."

"Ok, I need you to keep moving, hang a right at the fish market, then another right at 3rd Street. That'll bring you around to our loading area, and we can let these poor people continue on their way." She smiled brightly as a pick-up stuck behind them let its horn blare.

The driver ducked his head sheepishly. "Yes ma'am, right ma'am."

He moved to take the truck out of park and she reached in to tap his shoulder. "And another thing. Don't call me 'ma'am' – my mother is a 'ma'am'. I'm just 'Maggie', ok?"

Flustered, the young man nodded, stammered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Yes ma'am' and put the truck back into drive. She hopped back onto the bar steps and waved him on. She continued waving, playing traffic cop and exchanging greetings with the other drivers as they went past. "Hey Earl, easy with the horn, ok? You're scaring the city boy. Mornin' Josie! Hey Doug, Anna! Duke, we've got a new keg in – come see us tonight, got it? Need your expert opinion!" She trailed off as the line of familiar SUVs and ATLs was followed by an unusual sight. The bus from Anchorage, still gleaming white under a thin layer of dust.

She squinted, trying to peer within the tinted glass for possible passengers. Had to be somebody on there, the bus didn't make the trip every day. It rolled on past her towards its designated stop, the Inn/Visitor's Center down the road. She put a hand above her eyes, watching intently as the door swung open. Only one person emerged. Male, she could tell, but too far off to pick out details, plus his head was covered by the hood of his sweatshirt. He was dragging a suitcase in one hand and had a duffle bag swung over one shoulder. _'Whoever he is, guess he's staying a while,'_ she thought.

Then, remembering the beer truck that was surely waiting for her, she turned and headed back into the bar.

Jesse blinked over and over as his still sleep-crusted eyes tried in vain to adjust to the sunlight. He felt eyes on him and twisted around. The bus-driver, his sole companion for the last day and a half was watching him. He raised one hand in a half-hearted wave. "Uh…thanks." The bus-driver nodded and shut the bus door, letting Jesse catch a glimpse of himself before the vehicle pulled away. _'Pinkman, you look like shit…'_ he thought. He hadn't shaved or cut his hair since his escape. That would be high on a list of things to do. The mountain-man look didn't suit him at all, though it might help him fit in with the denizens of the tiny town. It also helped hide his scars. Instinctively one hand went to his chin, feeling the short lines of raised scar-tissue through his thick beard. He shuddered, just for a moment, then forced his hand away. Keep pushing, keep blocking, keep moving. That was the mantra. That was what had got him this far. Gotten him to Bear Creek, Alaska. Population 554, according to the sign they had passed on the way in. _'555 now.'_ He shifted the duffle bag on his shoulder, joints stiff from the long ride.

He glanced at the building in front of him. 'The Creekside Inn' read the wooden sign hanging above its door, and below that, 'Vacancy.' The white and green paint was peeling, but in a way that was appealing rather than looking dilapidated. He half-wondered if they had done it on purpose, 'antiqued' it or some shit. He took a step forward, then another, reminding himself that was all it took. Just one at a time. Keep moving.

He stepped onto the porch and pulled the door open. He was instantly hit by the unmistakable scent of baked goods. He followed his nose to the front desk and found a basket of muffins, still steaming, seemingly fresh from the oven. He swallowed thickly, frozen in place, hovering over them.

"Go ahead, sug," a female voice said, and he whipped his head up, startled by the woman standing behind the desk, and shocked he hadn't noticed her right away. She was older than he, but he couldn't tell by how much, with teased blonde hair that was straight out of the 80s. Time moved slower up here, apparently. "Take one. I promise they're as good as they smell."

He hesitated, suddenly conscious of how caked in filth his fingernails were, how out of place he must seem. His stomach let out a loud growl and he felt his cheeks burn.

The woman's mouth (painted a bubblegum pink) curled and she plucked a muffin from the basket. Grabbing him by the wrist, she placed in his hand. "Take it, hon. Though you look like you could use something a little more substantial."

With the free invitation, he practically inhaled it, hunger overriding his self-consciousness, only reemerging to stop himself from licking the wrapper, which he instead crumpled and shoved into the pocket of his jeans. A diet of trail-mix and beef jerky had been enough to survive, but he'd forgotten how good real fresh food could be. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and mumbled, "Thanks…"

"Anytime, sug," she said, patting him on the arm. When he flinched, her smile faded. "Road's been rough on you, huh? Can we get you a room for the night?"

He rummaged in his duffle bag and placed a handful of cash on the desk. "More than one night, I think." he said.

The woman picked up the money, eyebrows rising dramatically. "Well…" she said, bouncing the bills in her hand, as if weighing them, and him, as she pursed her lips. "Looks like you'll be staying with us for quite some time." She tucked the cash in a drawer beneath the desk and plucked a key from the wall behind her. "Welcome to Bear Creek, sug. I'm Wendy. Wendy Miller." She extended her hand, "And you are?"

_'Oh shit.' _What did his new ID say? It'd been weeks since he'd looked at it."J…Josh," he stammered, shaking her hand as firmly as he could muster, "Josh Carpenter."

"Nice to meet'cha," she said, "You're room number 7 – just up the stairs and to the left."

He took the room key, picked up his suitcase. "Thanks…Wendy."

"See ya 'round, hon."

The room was ridiculously easy to find. There looked to only be fifteen rooms in the whole place, and from the looks of the other keys on the pegboard, maybe one or two other occupants. He opened the door to his room, let his luggage fall roughly to the floor, and let himself land on the bed with even less finesse. He hadn't had a mattress beneath him in months, reduced to sleeping on busses, in box cars of freight trains, and god knows what else. He almost let himself drift off again when the thought of his grimy fingernails crept into his mind again and he forced himself up and to the bathroom, shedding layers as he went.

He was naked by the time his feet touched the tile floor and he shut the door behind him, leaning against it, feeling the cold, smooth wood against his back and shutting his eyes. If the distorted reflection on the glass bus door was jarring, the real thing would surely be worse. He took a deep breath, then another. Keep breathing, another mantra. He decided it might be less awful to be clean first.

Averting his eyes from the mirror, he started the shower running. He stuck a hand under the stream and jerked it back, cursing. It took a solid two minutes to warm up, and as soon as it had reached room temperature he stepped into the tub. Even lukewarm it felt amazing. He stood with his head under the showerhead, letting the water pour over him. He then pushed his hair back so it was slicked against his head and swiveled around, searching for the soap. Tucked in a corner was what had to be a homemade bar. He gave it a sniff. The scent was almost undetectable, so used to chemical fragrances as he was. He found himself happy that this was what he had to use. It seemed symbolic almost.

He scrubbed, gently at first, and then more vigorously as he watched the dirt and grime pool at his feet and swirl away down the drain. He surprised himself when he emitted a laugh-like gurgling sound. How could something so simple make him so elated? By the time he was lathering his hair, the repressed gurgle had grown to a full-throated laugh. Wendy downstairs had to really think he was insane, but he didn't care. He took his time, getting every crevice. He washed his hair a second time, then a third, marveling at how with each rinse and repeat it felt less greasy between his fingers. Eventually the water began creeping towards room temperature again, signaling that he probably should give it a rest. Reluctantly, he shut the water off and shoved the curtain open.

The bathroom mirror was well-fogged so he was spared his own image a moment longer. He dried himself, and then took a deep breath before bringing the towel up to the mirror. The face that stared back at him was his, but hollow, with deep dark circles under the eyes. The scars, at least the ones not hidden by beard stood out against his skin, which had grown pale from the months kept out of the sun. He ran a hand through his hair again. Wet, it hung past his shoulders. He tugged at his beard. It had to be at least five inches long now. _'I look like a fuckin' hobo…guess I kinda was…'_

He took a step back to get a fuller view. His was thinner than he'd ever been (and he'd always been skinny), and his muscles were less defined than they use to be. He looked half-starved, and he guessed he'd been that too. He frowned at the sad sack in the mirror. That was going to change. It had to. And he knew just how to start.

Unfortunately, a quick survey of the room yielded no scissors (or sharp objects of any kind for that matter). In frustration, he lugged his suitcase up onto the bed and unzipped it, digging around for the least-dirty clothes he had. He chose a black t-shirt and black jeans, which hid dirt best, and donned his hoodie again before grabbing another small handful of cash from the duffle bag. He stowed both suitcase and duffle in the closet, slipped on his sneakers (the soles of which were dangerously thin) and headed back downstairs.

Wendy was gone from the front desk, having left a note that said 'Out to Lunch. At the Last Stop if needed.'

He was on his own to find a barber then. But finding one on this, the only big street in the whole damn town, couldn't be that hard. He pulled his hood up over his wet hair, grabbed another muffin from the basket, and ventured back out again.

"I'm tellin' ya, Mags, he was just about the saddest thing I ever saw come offa that bus," Wendy said, gesturing emphatically with a French-fry. "He looked like a kicked dog, I swear."

Maggie put a hand over the inn-keeper's drink so it wouldn't get knocked asunder. "And he paid for more than a month at Creekside?"

"In cash," Wendy nodded, "And I know Dale says to be wary of that kinda thing, but ya should'a seen him! I couldn't say no to those sad puppy eyes."

The bartender shook her head, "That's your problem, Wend, you're a sucker for any pair of baby blues that waltzes through your…" she trailed off, her eyes going over her friend's shoulder, "…door…"

"Hmm?" Wendy twisted around, "Well I'll be damned…He cleans up even nicer than I thought."

Maggie didn't respond, but kept her eyes on the young man who'd just come through the door. It was the one who'd gotten off the bus, she recognized the hoodie. His shoulders were hunched and he was peering around the room uncertainly.

"Hey, sug!" Wendy called out, waving at him, "Why don'cha join us?"

He flinched slightly, as if he'd been hoping to go unnoticed, but that was a bit impractical with most of the regulars off on a fishing job that day. The bar was practically empty. He seemed to realize this and walked slowly towards them, hands buried in his pockets.

Wendy pulled the barstool next to hers out for him. "Maggie, this is Josh. Josh, this is my good friend Maggie."

He slid onto the stool and gave the young woman a nod. "Hey."

"…Hi," she managed. Wendy might be a bit dramatic, but she didn't lie. The man now seated across from her had just about the saddest, most soulful eyes she'd ever seen. He was no longer quite the mess Maggie had described however. His tawny hair was close cropped to his head, and his beard had received similar treatment. She also couldn't help but notice the scars scattered across his features. As she wondered about their story, she realized she'd been staring and coughed awkwardly into her hand. "I-I'm sorry. What can I get you?"

He turned towards the row of taps along the bar. "Uh…a beer, I guess? What's good?"

Happy to talk shop (something with which she was much more comfortable) she smiled. "We actually just got the Ice Axe Ale in. Used to be brewed exclusively for a nearby town, but they're stretching out! It's a 9% though, so…"

"Let's do it," he said, pulling a $50 bill from his pocket and slapping it down on the bar, "And, uh, what've you got to eat?"

"Ooh!" Wendy bounced in her seat, "This boy needs the Last Stop Last Meal! For sure."

"Last Meal?" he asked, "Not sure I like the sound of that…"

"Oh you'll love it," the blonde woman said, "Trust me."

He shrugged, "Alright, sure."

Maggie grinned, handing him his beer, "One Last Stop Meal coming up!"

The meal that was set before Jesse was…intimidating, to say the least. He'd been told as it was being prepared that it was the meal that tourists ordered before they climbed nearby Mt. McKinley, mostly as a joke, but the name stuck and the pub had become moderately well-known for it.

He could see why. It came in five courses, each one richer than the last. First French Onion Soup with enough cheese on top to cause a coronary, then chili with cornbread (still in the cast iron skillet), then a plate of wings that came customizable (from 'pussy' to 'powder keg'), a whole pound burger and fries, and when they finally brought out the triple-decker chocolate cake, he was done. He leaned back in his stool and pushed the plate away. "No way, man…no more. You ladies can have this."

"Don't hafta tell me twice," Wendy said, fork at the ready, "Thanks, sug."

"Sure." He put both hands on his stomach and was slightly disturbed to feel that it had distended slightly. Maybe over-doing it hadn't been the best idea, but he'd been so damn hungry. He belched into his fist, then muttered, "S'cuse me…"

Maggie put a glass of something slightly yellowish and fizzing in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at it.

"It's Brioskee," she said, "You'll thank me later."

He glanced up at her, and then averted his eyes again. He could tell she kept staring at him, and it made his ears burn. The old man at the barber shop had done a fine job, but he was more conscious than ever of his scars and the last thing he wanted to do was answer questions. And it didn't help that he kept catching himself stealing glances at her. She was pretty in a real-life sort of way, her curly hair looked natural and she didn't seem to wear much make-up. In that way she reminded him of Andrea and _'No, stop it. That's over. Thinking about her doesn't help anything.'_ Besides, in every other way, the two were very different. Maggie seemed very together, and still very much free of real responsibility. She must have grown up the way you were supposed to, and in this town, that didn't surprise him.

He took a sip of the fizzing concoction. "Oh. Seltzer." He felt stupid for not realizing.

Wendy pointed at him with a forkful of cake. "Too bad ya couldn't finish this, hon. You'd've gotten your picture on the wall." She gestured behind the bar, where, above the shelves of liquor a small, hand-painted 'Hall of Fame' sign hung, surrounded by Polaroids of people who all looked like he felt.

"Nah," he shook his head, "You don't want my face up there, scaring people off."

Maggie set a glass she'd been drying down forcefully. "Don't say that!" Both Wendy and Jesse stared at her. Her face flushed almost as red as her hair and she hurriedly started clearing away his plates, disappearing into the kitchen.

Wendy let out a string of low giggles, while Jesse sat dumbfounded. _'Maybe she doesn't get out much…'_ he mused. "Alright, well, uh, this was great an' all, but I think I'm gonna go, whaddya call it? Hibernate? Yeah…" he slid off the barstool.

"Not even gonna say goodbye?" Wendy asked after him.

"I'll uh…I'll see you around. Pretty small town, after all," he said, and hurried out the door.

He made it back to his room quickly, and as he stripped down and climbed into bed, he reflected absently that it might be nice to live within walking distance of the bar. And barber. And everything really.

He rolled onto his back and raised his right hand towards the ceiling, staring at it. Even if his face wasn't a mess, the rest of him was. His hands were calloused, the skin dry and cracking, and he could make out faint tract-mark scars on his forearm. _'They were just small town girls, being nice because they don't get many visitors and know I've got cash…' _ He frowned, then cocooned himself in the comforter, and was asleep from pure exhaustion in minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jesse awoke, the sun was still shining through the gap in the curtains. Puzzled, he rolled over to look at the nightstand clock. 6:30. AM? PM? With a grunt, he pulled himself nearer to the edge of the bed and leaned in close. PM. _ 'What the fuck…?' _He threw the blankets off and staggered to the window. He squinted as he pushed the curtain aside. The street outside looked like midday, and through his bewilderment, he allowed himself to take in the scene.

He could see the whole town from just this second story window, small houses clustered just past the main street, with tall trees beyond that off to one side, and a body of water off to the other. Not the ocean, but a lake? A huge river? A bay? He couldn't remember what he'd seen on the map when he'd plotted his path up here. Whatever it was there was a dock that was filled with fishing boats and people were filing off of them and into town. '_Must be quittin' time…'_

He let the curtain fall back into place and returned to the bed, sitting on the edge as he mulled over his next move. His gaze fell on his discarded clothes on the floor and he frowned. Sure, Jesse Pinkman felt good in the overly-baggy jeans, simple t-shirts and sneakers, but did Josh Carpenter? He didn't think so. _'Shit, if I'm supposed to be someone else, I should at least dress different…' _ He scratched his chin again, trying to remember what store he'd passed walking between the Inn and the bar. An old-timey General Store stood out in his mind. That would be as good a place as any to start.

* * *

><p>Paul Ricket was crouched down, cleaning the display case beneath the cash register (the cigars had been looking just a tad dusty) when he heard to bell ring, signaling that someone had entered the store. He rose, slowly, his back protesting mightily as he did so. He grumbled under his breath. Even a year ago, he hadn't had this problem. Something about the big round number 65 had made his body start echoing his wife, pestering him to retire and leave the store to his son at long last. Maybe next year, he kept repeating. Maybe this year <em>was <em>next year, his back told him.

He stretched, and then turned towards the door. A young man he didn't recognize was hovering just inside. "Evenin', son," Paul said.

The young man started, head snapping up. "Uh…guess it is, huh? Doesn't really look like it outside…"

Paul laughed. "It's July, son. 'Round here we get sun 22 hours a day this time of year."

"No sh-…er, I uh…Really?"

"Sure at shit," Paul said, smiling. "What can I do for you, son?"

The stranger approached the counter. "Um…clothes. Do you sell clothes here?"

"Up in the loft." Paul pointed towards the wooden stairs off to the left of the counter. "And there's a catalog up there too, in case what we've got isn't, er, exactly your 'style'."

"No worries…I'm actually, uh, lookin' for a new 'style'," they young man said. "Thanks, sir."

"Call me Paul." He extended his hand.

"Right." They shook hands. "I'm Josh."

"Well, holler if you need anything, Josh."

"Yes sir, er, Paul…"

_'What's with people and shaking hands around here…?' _Jesse wondered as he perused the rustic shelves full of denim and plaid. Nothing but denim and plaid. He wanted to stand out less, and this would surely help.

He walked to the railing that ran along the mezzanine and called down, "Yo, can I, like, change up here? Promise I'll pay when I come back down, but this…" he tugged at his t-shirt collar. "…is kinda gettin' rank, ya know?"

"Sure, son," the old man answered. "There's a curtained off area in the back corner. Just pull the tags off and bring 'em down when you're done."

"Thanks." Jesse pushed off the railing and headed back to the shelves. He dug around until he found a pair of Wrangler jeans (they only came in 'Relaxed Fit' up here it seemed) in what he thought he remembered was his size and a red flannel button down. On his way to the 'curtained corner' he spotted a rack of socks thicker than he'd ever seen before and snagged a pair from its hook.

He slipped behind the curtain, all too happy to shed his dirty old clothes again. The flannel shirt was soft against his skin, and he actually gasped as he pulled the socks on. They were glorious. He'd never take them off, he promised himself. The jeans were actually a bit looser than he figured they were meant to be, but he was going to get back to his normal weight soon. Fresh muffins each morning and enormous burgers at the bar would see to that. So he went seeking a belt rather than size down. In the same place he found a leather belt, he found shoes too. He'd miss his Nikes, but the steel-toed work boots he chose would surely be more 'all-terrain'. He laced them up and then stood, examining himself in the full-length mirror that was propped against a nearby wall.

"I look like a fucking lumberjack," he laughed quietly. "Good."

He grabbed a dozen more plaid button-downs, more jeans, more of the amazing socks, a few multi-packs of boxers and lumbered back down to the first floor, arms full. He set everything down on the counter with a labored breath. "Ok. I think I'm set."

Paul smiled bemusedly. "I'd say so. Lemme get you a box for all of this."

* * *

><p>With his new wardrobe stashed back at the Inn, Jesse ventured back out into the bizarrely bright night. After the monster of a lunch he wasn't exactly hungry, but he was in the mood for another beer. Plus, everyone who had been getting off the boats had been heading to the bar, so it would be a good chance to practice blending in. He'd been isolated for so long; the idea of being one among a crowd was an appealing one.<p>

He climbed the rustic wooden stairs two at a time. As he pulled the heavy door open, he was hit with a wave of noise. This was the town's 'dinner scene' to be sure. Probably the only nightlife as well, he mused, edging into the packed space. People watching had never been a favorite hobby of his, but with as diverse a group as this, he imagined he'd never get bored with the pastime.

There was a row of burly mid-forty-somethings huddled together at the end of the bar, watching a baseball game on the one TV in the place. A group of men a bit older than that were playing a raucous game of cards around a table in the center of the room. At a booth in a corner, a pair of teens were making out, oblivious to everyone around them, including a group of middle-schoolers in the booth in front of theirs, who were taking turns leering at the two then returning to their friends to snicker collectively. He spotted Wendy entertaining a table of middle-aged couples, she herself seated in the lap of a tall man in a John Deer cap. She caught sight of him and waved him over, but he just waved politely from across the room and continued on his way to the bar. He slid into the last empty stool, tucked into the corner opposite the ball-game crowd and picked up a cardboard coaster, fiddling with it absently.

"You just can't stay away, huh new guy?"

He glanced up and saw Maggie grinning at him. "Heh, nah…Can I get beer?"

"Comin' right up," she nodded. "Same as earlier?"

"Yeah." She strode over to the tap and he watched her go, noticing (how could he not?) that she'd removed the sweater she'd worn at lunch and with just a black tank-top on, her arms were tattooed with full color sleeves, from shoulder to wrist. "Whoa…"

She glanced back at him. "You starin' at my ass, new guy?"

"Guh?" Now that she'd said it, he couldn't stop his gaze from snapping down and honing in on _it_, clad in jeans that were decidedly not 'relaxed fit'. _'Shit, that's tight.'_ He shook his head, clearing his throat. "N-naw," he stammered. "I, uh, I like your ink."

She let the head on the beer settle, then set it down in front of him. "Thanks. Took years to get done. I started when I was 18 with these guys here." She flashed her wrists at him, and he could make out the silhouette of a tree in a circle on each. "Tree of life. And it just grew from there."

"Nice."

"Mmhmm," she nodded, leaning over the bar on her elbows. "Probably a silly question, but are you hungry at all?"

"Nah, I'm good…probably good for a week," he said, trying to smile at her. It was harder than he thought it'd be. His face actually felt stiff and he could feel the tug of his scars stretching. He turned his attention to his beer, grasping the cold glass with both hands. "Just beer tonight."

"Alright," she said, her own smile fading slightly. "I'll keep 'em comin', you just tell me when to stop, ok?"

"Sure," he nodded, gaze still on his drink. Maggie turned and headed to the other end of the bar. Jesse put the glass to his lips, then noticed the patron next to him was staring at him. He swallowed thickly, "Can I, uh, help you?"

The man next to him must've been native Alaskan, with tan skin and black hair that fell in a braid down his back. He was smirking. "Maggie won't bite," he said. "No need to be so gun-shy."

Jesse took another swig of beer. "Thanks, I'll, uh, keep that in mind…"

"You must be Mr. Carpenter," the man said, raising his own pint glass in greeting. "You can call me Duke."

"Josh," Jesse said, letting the glasses clink together lightly. "You're name's Duke?"

"No. But that's what you can call me," Duke said, let out a short laugh, and then regarded Jesse closely. "Your face tells a harrowing story, Mr. Carpenter. What brings you to us today?"

Jesse shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He downed the remaining half of his beer. "I…I wanted the fresh air," he said quietly.

Duke nodded. "There's plenty of that here," he said. "I hope it gives you the solace you seek." He returned to his beer, and the two sat in silence for a long while after that.

* * *

><p>"Another pitcher, guys?" Maggie asked, approaching the card table with the basket of onion rings they'd ordered.<p>

The dealer, a heavy-set man affectionately known as Big John, answered, "You read my mind, Maggie."

Next to him, a thinner man with black hair that was graying at the temples, looked up at her with admiration. "Sure you won't sit in a round with us?"

"Sorry, Dan, I'm on the clock," she told him, "I'll be right back with that pitcher."

"Hold on a sec," Big John said, putting a hand gently on her elbow. "What can you tell us about the newcomer?" He pointed towards the back corner of the bar, where the tawny young man was nursing another beer.

She followed John's finger, expression softening as she watched Josh drag his index finger around and around the rim of his glass. "Josh? Not much more than Wendy told you already: that he came in off the bus from Anchorage looking like a beaten dog, he ate almost a whole Last Meal earlier today. He's been pretty quiet so far."

"Sure does look like he's been through the ringer," Dan said.

To his right, a younger man with bleach-tipped spiked hair craned his neck to get a better look, not caring how conspicuous he looked. "Look at those scars…the hell you think happened to his face?"

Maggie scowled. "I'm sure it's none of your business, Jack Jr. I'm not gonna ask him, and I better not catch you asking him either." She huffed off.

Big John reached over and smacked Jack Jr. upside the head. "Idiot. Who taught you manners?"

Across the table, white-haired Jack Sr. interjected, "Sure wasn't me!"

The table erupted in laughter.

Maggie slipped back behind the bar, still frowning as she dug around for a clean pitcher. As she filled it, she found her gaze slipping over to the far corner. Josh was staring at his beer, which was half-empty and had been since the last time she'd glanced at him. She set the pitcher down and walked towards him. "That's probably pretty warm by now…can I freshen it up for ya?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he looked up and as he met her gaze, her heart gave a lurch towards her throat. _'Good God those eyes…'_ A hundred sappy clichés about pools and getting lost in them swirled through her head and it took her a solid, awkward minute to remember what she'd been doing.

"The, uh, beer," she said, running a finger along the rim as he'd done earlier. "You tired of it? Wanna try something different?"

He watched her movement intently. "Yeah," he nodded, "Got something lighter? My stomach's startin' to feel like a rock." He smiled again and her heart took another lurch. How could a simple, tiny smile be so devastatingly sad?

She wrapped her hand around the glass, letting her fingers touch his and linger there for longer that was reasonable (let alone professional). "Alright," she said. "I'll take care of ya, no worries." Then she pulled the glass away and returned to the row of taps, face flushed.

* * *

><p>Jesse stared at his hands, embarrassed to see they were shaking slightly. He clenched them into fists and crossed his arms. <em>'What's this chick's deal…?' <em>This didn't strike him as typical bartender-flirting. _'You're such a fuckin' train wreck, Pinkman, she probably feels sorry for you…' _He frowned and hunched his shoulders, sinking into himself. A low chuckle sounded from his right and he turned. Duke was laughing to himself. "What?" Jesse asked curtly.

"You're out of practice," Duke said. It was not a question. "But I wouldn't sweat it. So is she."

Jesse's brow furrowed. The geniality of the place was so foreign, it almost felt fake. Were people really this nice by choice? He took another look around the place. He hadn't seen so much smiling in one place since he was a kid. Even the ones currently losing their hand of cards were still laughing. As much as it unnerved him, it gave him hope too.

Maggie returned, the beer in her hand a pale amber rather than the deep reddish brown the previous one had been. "Here ya go. Sure you're not hungry?"

"Actually," he said, taking the beer from her, cautiously returning the finger-graze. "Do you guys do salads up here? I think I could go some something green."

She smiled. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she reached out with her other hand to grasp his forearm, squeezing it. "One plate of greens comin' right up."

When she pulled away, he was astounded at how hard his heart was pounding. It had been so long since he'd had physical contact that wasn't violent, and this day had been full of friendly touches…was this really what he could look forward to? He put a hand to his cheek, half-puzzled half-elated and was surprised to find wetness there. "Jesus…" he muttered, swiping at his eyes hurriedly. _'Don't be a baby, man, get a fuckin' grip!'_ He glanced nervously at Duke, but the Inuit man was staring straight ahead, politely ignoring him.

Of course, this only made the lump in his throat grow larger.

"Fuck…" He slid off of the barstool and made his way to the men's room which (_'Thank God'_) was single-occupancy and empty. Standing over the sink, he turned on the cold water and splashed his face. Glaring at his sorry reflection, he ordered himself, "Pull yourself together. These are good people, but you don't want their pity. Don't be that guy." He took in a ragged breath, felt another wave of tears cresting behind his eyes, and splashed his face again. "You…are **_not_**a guy who cries at the fucking bar. Knock it off." He sniffed, water flying from his eyelashes as he blinked rapidly. He willed his breath to slow, and stayed leaning over the sink until he felt composed again.

When he returned to his spot at the bar, his salad was waiting for him, and Maggie was cleaning a spill nearby, also apparently waiting for him. "Everything alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, giving her the most convincing smile he could muster, "I think so."


	3. Chapter 3

Quiet blues on the jukebox (it was a Touch Tunes machine but Wyatt insisted on calling it a jukebox) mingled with the sounds of dishes being washed and coats being gathered. Outside the sun at had started setting and that meant closing time. Maggie emerged from the kitchen, having bussed the last table, and yawned. She scanned the room. Jacks Jr. and Sr. were making their way out, laughing to themselves at a private joke, and that was everyone.

_'Ooops, almost everyone.'_ Josh was still at his corner stool, head down on folded arms, apparently dozing. She approached quietly and tapped his shoulder. "Josh…?"

"Mmwha…?" he raised his head, eyes bleary.

"Sorry, but we've gotta lock up. You ok getting back to the inn?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh…oh yeah, yeah…" he said, rubbing his face with both hands. "Yeah, I'm good." He rose slowly from his seat, then stretched widely. As he rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders, he glanced around the room. "Jesus, you could've kicked me out sooner."

"Didn't have the heart," she shrugged. "Besides, I kind of wanted to say goodbye without everybody around…"

"You, uh, you did?"

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you…" she began, "I mean, tomorrow's my day off and I thought maybe I could show you around town. It's not like we've got a lot of sights or anything, but if you're sticking around a while, knowing what's where might come in handy, you know?"

"Y-yeah," he said, looking a bit taken aback. "Sure…I guess that'd be cool. Ok, yeah."

"Great!" she beamed at him. "I'll come by the inn in the morning and we'll get breakfast."

"A-alright," he nodded, heading towards the door. "See ya then."

"See ya," she said. As the door shut behind him, she bounced on the balls of her feet. Taking initiative felt good, and she sensed that he needed a bit of that. With a lightness in her step despite how tired she was, she returned to wiping down tables.

* * *

><p>Jesse mulled things over as he made his way back to his room. His head was still fuzzy with sleep and that didn't help. The inn was dark when he entered. Apparently people made up for the extra amount of daylight (which was still freaky) with heavy curtains and the like, so it actually felt like it could be midnight as he climbed the stairs to room number 7. The clock on his nightstand read 12:23 AM.<p>

He stretched, cracked his neck, and groaned. _'What a fuckin' day…'_ He undressed and crawled into the bed, left-unmade from his midday nap. He still wasn't sure what to make of the town he'd chosen as his new home. A part of him knew that this was what he had wanted – someplace remote, small, filled with good, simple people – but getting what he'd wished for was unsettling. _'My head's probably so fucked up I'll never get used to it,'_ he bemoaned silently. He ran a hand over his face, tracing his scars as had become habit over his journey north. They'd be with him forever, these marks of the monster he'd finally escaped, and he knew they ran much deeper than the skin.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Maggie's face drifted through his mind. She'd kept touching him, wanted to spend the day with him. This was more than being nice. And it didn't feel like pity. What was she after? What could this vibrant, confident woman want with a wet dog like him? He sat up, able to make his reflection out in the mirror above the dresser through the dark. In the past he might've thought of himself as a good looking guy, even flirting his way out of a tight spot or two. But now? He looked like a zombie of his former self, sallow and masticated. He scowled and lay back down.

He tossed, turned, then shot up from the bed. He threw the curtains open and crossed to the dresser, staring hard at himself. Sure there were some things he couldn't change about his new appearance, but that didn't mean he was stuck like this. He didn't have to stay this sad sack. His face was forever marred but his body could recover. He straightened up, running a hand over his stomach, which was still slightly distended from his monster lunch. A few months of regular meals (and crunches) would help fix that. He could build his arms back up, get some definition in his chest. His hand, hesitantly, almost shaking, grazed further down his abdomen, past his pubic bone. He let out a gasp and pulled his hand away. No, he wasn't ready for that, but it was good to know he wasn't dead down there. And none of the women he'd been with had ever complained about what he had to offer in that department. Plus, he'd managed to stay disease-free. (He'd give credit to clean living or playing it safe, but that'd be a joke. Dumb luck was the only explanation.) He took a deep breath. Nodded at his reflection. He might be pathetic now, but he didn't have to stay that way.

And besides, she'd asked him out (Was that really what it had been? It had sounded kind of like it) in the state he was now. Maybe she wasn't the shallow type. Whatever the reason, he felt a sense of relief as he crawled back into bed. Maybe he really _could_ turn things around. As he huddled under the blankets, he tried smiling again. It didn't feel quite as hard as before.

* * *

><p>Maggie's alarm went off at 7 AM. She kicked off the covers and stretched like a cat, good and long. She switched on her radio, hopped out of bed and into the shower to the sound of the local 'DJ' Nick Dio rattling off the day's weather report. <em>"Good morning, Bear Creek! Looks like we've got another 20 hours of sunshine ahead of us, with temperatures getting as high as 70! So get out there and enjoy it, alright? Me, I'll be hangin' here at the station, and hopefully you'll take me with you wherever you go! Let's get the day started right, shall we? How about a little 80s to kick off the morning?" <em>

WHAM's "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" floated from the little clock radio and Maggie laughed. She couldn't have asked for a better day. She finished her shower and danced back into her bedroom, singing along. With a rare warm day ahead, she chose another tank top to wear (white) along with her favorite jeans (well-worn in with holes in the knees). She laced up a pair of bright green Converse high-tops and grabbed a stick of tinted lip gloss from her nightstand. She then slung a bag over her shoulder and headed out the door of her apartment, which lead to a repurposed fire-escape down to the alley behind the bar. It wasn't the ritziest place, but you couldn't beat the commute! With her Walk-Man radio tuned to DJ Nick's '80s Wake Up' she strode (ok, maybe danced) off towards the inn.

* * *

><p><em>'Sorry, Miss. It's nothin' personal.' <em>_**BANG!**_

Jesse shot up in bed, panting. He clutched at his chest, feeling his heart thundering within it. "Fuck…" he muttered. With how little sleep he'd gotten on the road north, he'd almost forgotten about the nightmares…and how vivid they could be. He shuddered, trying to focus on his breathing. That was it. Keep breathing. It was over. He had been helpless then, but he wasn't now. He'd gotten away. So far away.

He tossed the blankets aside and stood, crossing to the window and throwing the curtains open again. The sun helped. After so long in the dark, he was beginning to think the near constant daylight was really a blessing in disguise. He looked at the clock. 7:23 AM. Maggie had mentioned breakfast, so it didn't make any sense to try and get back to sleep. Who knew what he'd see when he closed his eyes again anyway? Better just to start the day.

The shower was just as wonderful as it had been the day before, and he lingered under the stream of water again. He'd spent the majority of the past year stewing in his own filth, he felt like he could shower non-stop and still not feel wholly clean. But once a day was a vast improvement and he felt renewed as he stepped out of the bathroom amid a rolling fog of steam.

As he mulled over which color plaid he wanted to go with that day (blue was the ultimate winner), the room phone rang. "Yo," he answered.

"Wake up call, sug," Wendy's voice sing-songed through the receiver. "You've got a guest."

"Be right down."

He trotted down the stairs two at a time. Maggie stood at the desk, chatting with Wendy. She looked up, smiled at him. He miscalculated the last step and lurched forward, stumbling and flailing his arms. He braced for impact with the floor but instead something thin and solid hit his chest. The wind left him but the floor stayed the appropriate distance away. Catching his breath, he turned to see it was Maggie who'd caught him. "Easy there, new guy, don't go fallin' so hard for me just yet." It was such a cheese-ball line, practically lame even. But the way she said it, without a hint of irony, sent butterflies exploding in his stomach.

He straightened up, feeling his cheeks burn. "Sorry…" he mumbled.

"Forget it," she said, punching his arm lightly. "C'mon, let's get outta here. See ya later, Wendy."

"Have fun kids!" Wendy waved them off.

They stepped out into the sun and he put a hand up, squinting in the brightness. Maggie waved something dark in front of his face. "Here. Thought you could use these," she said.

He put his hand around a pair of aviators, similar to what she was slipping on. "Thanks."

"No problem," she said, as they started down the street in the opposite direction of the bar. "This time of year you really need 'em. Once Fall hits though, I promise you'll miss this."

"Oh…it's like, the opposite then right?" he guessed. "Like, dark all the time?"

"Dark a lot of the time, yeah," she nodded. "Gotta stock up on Vitamin C pills cuz you won't get much of it elsewhere."

"Good to know."

"Here we go," she said, gesturing at the building they'd come upon. Though 'building' was a bit inaccurate. It was an old train car, reinvented as a diner. 'JOSIE'S' was lit in neon above the door.

Jesse peered at the rows of windows. "Doesn't look very crowded."

"Well, the morning crowd's off on the boats already. They've come and gone a couple hours ago," Maggie said, climbing the metal steps, "I wanted to come late so we wouldn't have to fight for a seat."

_'Late…? Guess people don't sleep in around here…'_ The smells that hit him as they entered did a good deal to ease his worries over becoming an early riser. This town was going to keep him well-fed, that was for sure. He put the aviators in his front shirt pocket and surveyed the space.

Booths lined the wall where the front door was (cozy, with worn leather padding and countless pocket knife etchings on the tables) and opposite that was a long bar with coffee pots on burners and double doors leading to the kitchen in the back. Only a few seats were occupied by residents he assumed were long retired. A pair of men with wispy white hair peeking out from under John Deere caps were sitting at one end of the bar, discussing last night's baseball game over their coffee.

"Mornin' gents," Maggie said as she sidled up and took the seat smack in the middle of the bar. They raised their mugs in her direction, and then returned to their conversation.

Jesse took to seat next to her, folding his hands atop the bar. He eyed the coffee pots hungrily.

Maggie must have noticed because she startled him by hopping this bar as if it were her own and pulled too mugs out from a cabinet on the other side. "Josie, I'm gettin' coffee for my friend and I, ok?" she called out.

The swinging doors burst open and a middle-aged black woman strode through. She stood over six feet tall and Jesse straightened up instinctively at her imposing appearance. "Girl," she said, putting her fists on her wide hips. "How many times do I hafta tell you that you don't work here anymore?"

Maggie shrugged, plucking a coffee pot from the machine and filling both mugs. "Doesn't mean I don't know where everything is. And I don't mind if you're tied up." She slid a mug in front of Jesse. "Josh, this is Josie. Josie, this is Josh. I'm showin' him around town today." She then walked to the end of the bar to come back around to the 'customer-side'.

Jesse took his mug in both hands, grateful to have something to occupy them. He gazed at Josie who in turn stared back at him, lips pursed, scrutinizing. He swallowed thickly. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said.

Josie frown twitched into more of smirk. "Keep up the good manners, boy, and we just might keep you 'round," she said. "You hungry?"

"Yes ma'am." He nodded.

"Then let's get you some breakfast," she said, tapping her knuckles on the counter decisively. "You just sit tight."

Maggie retook her seat. "Thanks, Josie."

The proprietress nodded and disappeared through the swinging double doors.

"She comes on a little strong, but she's really sweet underneath," Maggie said. "And she makes a mean omelet. You're in for a treat."

She offered him the container of sugar but he put a hand up, declining. "Is it even possible for you guys to make bad food up here?" he asked.

She laughed. "Life's too short for bad food," she said. "Though you'd be hard pressed to find anything that veers from traditional American fare. No sushi joint around here, sadly. But we've got a taco stand now! Maybe we'll go there for lunch."

Jesse felt like Mexican food might remind him a bit too much of home, but said nothing. He took a long sip of his coffee. He felt himself perk up almost instantly. How long had it been since he'd had caffeine? _'Too long, apparently.'_ "Thanks, by the way," he said. "This was nice of you. Wasn't exactly expecting a guided tour when I got off the bus yesterday."

"No biggie," she said, adding what had to be her fifth creamer to her coffee. "When I was new, it was Wendy who took the time to show me around. So I figured I oughta, you know, pass on the good karma."

"You're not a local?" he asked, surprised.

"Not quite," she answered. "My family lives a few towns south of here. A couple of years ago I packed up and headed north. Had a lot of drama I needed to clear outta my head. Then I found this place, and wound up wanting to stay."

Part of him wanted to think they weren't so different. That maybe she would understand where he was coming from. The other part of him wanted to kick that first part straight up the ass for being stupid. They weren't the same. But that was for the best, to be sure. He wanted, no, _needed_ her to be far less damaged than he was. She had smiled wryly speaking vaguely of her past, the sign of someone who knows their troubles were paltry compared to the world at large. She brushed a stray red curl behind her ear and met his gaze. "So how long do you think you'll be staying?" she asked.

"Forever," he said, without even thinking. "I mean, as long as I don't get run outta town," he added, ducking his head lower between his shoulders.

She laughed. "Not much chance of that. We're pretty forgiving folk up here." She reached out and patted his thigh. "You've already won over Wendy. And Duke too. The rest of 'em will follow, just you wait."

He felt his whole body freeze. Her hand hadn't left his leg. Suddenly his jeans were feeling tighter and he leapt up from his seat, stammering something unintelligible and making a beeline for the diner's clearly marked bathroom. His face was burning from the neck up as he closed the door hurriedly behind him. _'GAH!'_ It was all he could do to keep from screaming aloud. _'What the fuck, man?! What are you __**thirteen?!**__'_ He slapped himself in the face, furious and mortified. As if almost crying last night wasn't bad enough, but _this, __**really? **_ He took a long, deep breath, pleading with his body to calm the fuck down. There was a nice girl out there, who might feel something besides pity for him. It could be just curiosity, but even that was better than pity. _'C'mon, man, you can't afford to blow this by being a spaz. You're never gonna get a chance like this again.' _ Honestly, he hadn't expected to have such a chance at all. Even thinking about it felt like asking too much. He took another breath, relieved to feel things settling down.

For appearances sake he flushed the toilet. When he opened the bathroom door, Josie was standing across from Maggie and both women were eyeing him. "Everything all right, kid?" Josie asked.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He ambled back to his seat, relieved to find food there to occupy his attention. As he sat down, he caught Maggie's eye and realized she was blushing. _'Oh God.'_ His heart sank into his stomach. _'Don't tell me she __**felt**__ that?' _

He was saved from having to consider that further. She chattered happily about the food and the history of the diner while they ate and by the time she had paid the tab – he tried to put money down, but she wouldn't hear of it – he had almost forgotten his embarrassment.

"Come on," she said, rising from her seat. "Let's go walk around town." She grabbed his hand, and he let himself be led back out into the bright sunshine.


	4. Chapter 4

The town tour took most of the morning, not because there was a whole lot to see, but because Maggie knew every shop owner and spoke to them all as if they were old friends who were catching up after years apart, though it had to have been more like days. Jesse shook dozens of hands and was given one too-tight hug by the woman who owned the bakery. That was his own fault, truthfully. He'd nearly moaned in ecstasy after trying one of her signature chocolate chunk cookies. He was careful to temper his compliments a bit with any other free samples he was offered.

The abundance of samples helped him dissuade her from a sit-down lunch at the taco stand. Instead, they picked up a small carton of blueberries from the grocer and shared them as they walked along the docks and toward the edge of town.

"So how long does it take to get to know everyone in town?" Jesse asked.

"I don't know _everyone_," Maggie said. She was walking along the edge of the piers, as if on a balance beam, and he marveled at the ease with which she did it. "But being a bartender at the only bar certainly helps."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense." He popped the last blueberry into his mouth and deposited the container, basketball style, into the trash can that he spotted along their route.

"Nice shot!" She grinned at him.

He was finding it easier to smile the longer he was in her company. "So where to next? I think we've seen every square inch of this place."

She hopped down from the thick wooden post she'd been perched atop. "The town's only half of it. Follow me."

So he did, along old railroad tracks and into the woods. The pine trees were so tall he could barely make out their tops, dark against the bright blue sky. The train tracks faded away and he was thankful for the workboots he'd bought, as the trail grew rocky and full of exposed roots. She was a few paces ahead of him, not hurrying but moving purposefully and silently through the trees. After a morning full of introductions, and the crowded bar the night before, the quiet was a welcome one. By the time she stopped, at what looked like a break in the trees, he was tired and sweating. He came to a stop next to her, panting, and dismayed to see that, aside from a slight sheen on her forehead, she seemed unaffected. "You make this trek often?" he asked.

"As often as I can," she said. "Wouldn't you?"

She was staring out ahead of them. He turned his attention in that direction and discovered they were standing at the edge of a clearing chock full of wild flowers. "Whoa…" he breathed. "Yeah, I guess I would."

"Let's take a breather," she said, and jogged out into the middle of the field before flopping down on the ground. Her tattooed arm rose up above the flowers and tall grass, waving at him. "Come on, Josh!"

He was too winded to jog, but he ambled out to her spot only to find her beaming up at him behind her aviators. "Don't you get, like, bugs all over you doing that?" he asked.

"Oh, you must be a city boy," she laughed. She sat up and took hold of his arm, tugging him down next to her. "A couple bugs won't hurt ya. Especially not with you all buttoned up like that." She plucked at the cuffs of his shirt, which were indeed buttoned. "Aren't you hot? Why don't you roll these up?"

Instinctively, he pulled his arm from her grasp. "I, uh, I'd rather not."

"Sorry," she said quickly, folding her hands in her lap.

"S'ok," he muttered. He drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees.

They sat in silence for quite a while. As they sat, Jesse wrestled with himself. It was going to seem strange to wear long sleeves all summer, even if the weather was mild. And he was trying to blend in, not stick out. And Maggie seemed to like him already. She might be a good test. Depending on how she reacted, he'd be able to guess how others might. He glanced over at her. She was braiding blades of grass together absently. _'Well, here goes nothin'.'_ Silently, he began unbuttoning the plaid shirt.

"Hmm?" Maggie looked up. "What're you–?"

"Hang on." He shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders and shook one arm loose, then pulled the sleeve off the other, leaving him in only his white Hanes t-shirt, which was clingy with sweat. Carefully, he folded the long-sleeve shirt and set it in his lap, folding his hands atop it. He waited, feeling her eyes on him.

"You came up here to get clean?" she said at last.

"I _am_ clean," he answered, not looking at her. "Almost a year now. But I knew I couldn't stay that way if I stayed where I was."

Her hand was on his arm then, right over the scars of all his bad decisions, squeezing gently. "Sounds to me like you made a good call. But I can understand why you wouldn't want to have to explain that to every new person." She paused, and then added. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks," he said. "It feels good to tell somebody though. So, uh," he turned a crooked smile towards her. "Thanks for asking, I guess."

"That's a weird thing to thank somebody for, but all right. You're welcome for being nosy, I guess?"

She was smiling at him. She hadn't backed away, or let judgment creep into her voice. She was just sitting there, the sun shining on her hair, smiling at him, and there were dimples in her cheeks as she smiled and he knew in that moment that he was a goner. Maybe it was a naïve reaction to the kindness she was showing, and maybe it was just a crush, but the same butterflies from earlier were going ballistic in his stomach and all he could do was smile back at her.

She reached up and ran a finger over his shoulder. "You look good in a white t-shirt."

"Nah." He shook his head. "But keep dragging me up this mountain and I will."

She laughed. "Humble _and_ cocky all in the same sentence." She stood, stretching. "Now, as much as I could take a nap up here, I forgot sunscreen, and I gotta get these bad boys outta the sun." She patted her arms.

"Oh, sure yeah." He stood as well. "At least the hike back down will be easier."

"That's what _you_ think." She chuckled. "Your calf muscles might be crying in the morning, but a couple months of this and you'll thank me!"

She was right about that. His legs were burning by the time they reached the edge of the woods at the base of the mountain. He was glad he'd kept the plaid shirt off. As they approached town again, he was able to slip it back on and hide the sweat stains that were forming on his t-shirt. "Thanks again," he said, as they neared the main drag. "This was cool. Hanging out, I mean. Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

"How about we keep doing it right now?" she asked. She glanced at the time on her cell. "It's only a little past two. We could have the foosball table all to ourselves at the bar. And I could use something cool to drink, how 'bout you?"

"Y-yeah, great!" he said.

* * *

><p>"Yoohoo, anybody home?" Maggie called as she pulled the heavy wooden door open.<p>

"Yo!" Behind the bar, an tall, strapping Inuit man a few years her senior raised his dishrag in her direction. "Can't stay away, huh, Mags?"

"You know it," she said with a grin. She felt the weight of the door lessen and glanced back. Josh had one hand against it. He nodded for her to go ahead in. "Alan, this is Josh. Just came to town yesterday. I've been giving him the ten cent tour."

As they approached the bar, Alan stuck out a hand. "You got swindled, my friend. Ain't nothin' in this town worth ten cents."

Maggie pouted childishly, but her companion shook her coworker's hand and said, without missing a beat, "Nothing but the tour guide, anyway. And she's worth way more, so I got a bargain, I think."

Alan laughed heartily. "Mags, you didn't tell me your friend was such a charmer!"

She smirked. "Maybe because I didn't want you setting your sights on him."

Josh took a step back, mouth hanging open. Alan waved both hands in front of his chest. "Sorry, new guy, didn't mean to blow your mind there. All in jest, I promise."

"Uh…r-right, sorry," Josh stammered. He looked to Maggie, eyes pleading.

She put a hand on his arm. "That's alright. The tourists are always surprised to meet Alan."

Alan shrugged. "I'm just breaking down stereotypes all over this joint. So what brings you in on your day off, hmm? Haven't you got plenty of booze in your apartment?"

"I do," she admitted. "But I don't have foosball."

"Touché. I'll bring a couple of beers over then, shall I?"

"Please, thank you." With that, she linked her arm around Josh's and steered him off to the game room, which was separated from the main bar by a short hallway. "You ok?"

"J-just surprised, that's all," he said, and she could see his cheeks flush above his beard. "Hope that wasn't, ya know, rude."

"Nah," she assured him, "He likes getting that reaction out of new people. Here we are."

The game room wasn't fancy, but was crammed with every form of entertainment Wyatt had been able to get his hands on. There were arcade boxes along one wall, dart boards along another, and in the center of the room both foosball and pool tables.

"Whoa…" Josh said for the second time that day, "Sweet set up."

"I hardly ever get back here, but it's not a bad way to spend an afternoon," she said.

He moved around the room, peering at the arcade games. "Hardly ever get back here?" he asked, pointing at the screen of _Arkanoid_, which was displaying the tops scores. The letters 'MAG' sat in the number one spot.

She flushed. "Ok, so maybe I come back here when things are slow," she said. "And things are slow a lot. It's a tiny town."

"No need to explain yourself," he said, and she could hear the teasing in his voice. "Just, if I were that much of a badass nerd, I'd own up to it."

She didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. "Well, if nerds can be badass, then I guess I fit that description."

He smiled at her. She was happy to see it seemed to pain him less than yesterday. "So have you mastered all of these games, or what? Did you bring me back here to school me?"

She returned the smile. "You'll just have to find out."

They made their way around the room, playing each game that allowed for two players, pausing for beers as Alan brought them. She was pleasantly surprised to find that, while he talked a big game, he didn't quite have the skills to back it up, but he was a good sport, and seem to enjoy being beat as much as he did winning. By the time six beer bottles sat on the bar shelf along the lone empty wall, they had run out of games. Maggie sat on the pool table and polished off her forth bottle. "Well, I'm beat, how about you?"

Josh leaned against the table next to her. "Yeah. And hungry too."

"How 'bout this?" she said, gesturing with the neck of her bottle. It had gotten to her, a little, she had to admit, but she wasn't concerned. "Let's order something to go, and take it upstairs to my place? We can end the tour there, and watch a movie or something."

"R-really?" Josh was staring down his bottle, blushing again. "I mean that sounds nice an' all, but we just met and uh–"

"Oh relax," she teased, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Did I say I wanted to have sex? No. I just wanna have dinner and a movie, and we don't have an AMC in town."

"Uh, oh, r-right, sorry, I didn't mean to, uh, I mean - not that you're not hot, but uh, I–"

She put a finger to his lips. "Shush now. Take it easy. Maybe no more of these tonight." She shook the bottle. "Let's just go order food, ok?"

He looked relieved. "Ok."

* * *

><p>The climb up the modified fire escape to her apartment was blessedly short, if not a bit treacherous, with both of them a little fuzzy-headed, but Jesse clung to the railing, and Maggie clung to him and the take-out bag and they managed. Once inside, she pulled two cherry sodas from her fridge and they spread out the food on her coffee table. Cheesesteaks and fries were just what he needed to sober up. She drew the curtains, to help it seem more like evening, then she perused her DVD collection and called out titles to him to 'yay' or 'nay'.<p>

"I need something dumb and fun," she said, crouching in front of the bookshelf, "How about _The Avengers_?"

"Not the shitty remake of that British TV show, right?" he asked.

"No, the one with the Hulk."

"Sold. Let's do this."

"Sweet!" She popped the disk in the player, switched off the lights and then settled down next to him on the couch.

They ate in silence and then, when there was no more food, sat in silence, apart from laughing at the appropriate places in the movie. Gradually, Jesse noticed Maggie inching closer to him on the couch. Then, as the characters on screen regrouped to collectively fight off their enemy, she reached out and took hold of his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. He felt his heart beat faster, but was relieved not to have a repeat of the morning's humiliation. This was nice. There was no need to get overexcited or over-think it. One step at a time. That was the mantra, and he could apply it to all things, and especially this thing. It was only his second day; he was experiencing culture shock for sure. For the first time in years he was feeling safe, and that in itself was intoxicating. He couldn't let himself get carried away. One day at a time. Keep breathing. Keep moving forward – but slowly, he amended. Slowly.

_'Still…'_ He raised their joined hands and pressed his lips lightly against her fingers. There was nothing wrong with thanking her for her kindness. She'd never know what it meant to him. He couldn't tell her, not with words. But maybe actions would get the message across.

He glanced at her, and she was smiling at him again. The light from an explosion on the tv screen lit up her face. "So, I was thinking I might kiss you. Just to see what it's like. Would that be ok?"

He swallowed thickly. "Uh, ok."

And just like that her lips were on his and his mind was racing. _'Soft. Sweet. Cherry? The soda? And warm. Oh God, don't stop.'_ And just as quickly as it had happened it was over and she pulled away. She bit her bottom lip, grinning and…blushing? It was hard to tell in the dark. "I haven't done that in ages. Sorry if it wasn't great."

He balked. "Are you kidding?" he breathed. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I didn't even, I mean, maybe we could try again?"

She nodded, curls bobbing, and he cupped her face in both hands. He marveled at the softness of her skin before lowering his mouth on to hers. He fought the urge to use tongue. _'Go slow, dammit!'_ Instead he focused on breathing her in. She smelled like fresh mountain air. When he pulled back, she sounded as breathless as he felt.

"Well that was more like it," she said, and draped herself against him, sighing.

"Yeah it was," he agreed. He licked his lips, trying to savor the taste of her. Part of him wanted to ask if they could try a third time. The rest of him was petrified. What the hell was he doing, getting attached again so quickly? Hadn't he sworn he'd live the life of a hermit once he got away, so no one would ever get hurt again because of him? But this town wasn't going to let him do that, he could tell already. They were ready to welcome him in whether he was ready to be welcomed or not. But he was safe now, wasn't he? Everyone who could or wanted to hurt him was dead, and the only person who even had a clue where he'd gone was living his own new life in hiding as well. All the bridges had been burned. The chains had been broken. The only one stopping him from trying to find happiness again…was himself. And that fight was going to be a tough one.

He wrapped one arm around her and let the movie finish. As it did, he rose from the couch. She slipped as he moved, and he realized she must have dozed off. "Leaving already?" she asked sleepily.

"I think I should." He reached out and ran a hand over her curls. They felt like silk beneath his callouses. "Listen, this was, this was awesome. Could I, uh, see you again sometime?"

She leaned into his hand. "You can see me all the time. It's a small town. But I know what you mean. And yes. I'd like to do this again too."

"Cool. Ok. Yeah." He fumbled backwards by the light of the tv towards the door. "I'll, uh, I'll see you later then."

"Have a good night!" She waved.

"You too." His hand found the doorknob and, grinning like an idiot, he exited the apartment. Instantly he was blinded by sunlight. With a grunt of annoyance, he slipped on his sunglasses. "Way to kill the mood, sun," he muttered.

As he reached the bottom rung of the fire escape, he found Alan standing outside the bar's back door. A full trash bag sat at his feet, but he was apparently using the errand as an excuse to take a smoke break. "Look at you, being all gentlemanly and not sleeping over," he said with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah. What're you waiting for me?" Jesse asked. He still didn't know what to make of the man.

"Nah, just good timing." He stamped out the cigarette. "Maggie's a grown-up; she can do what she wants. Doesn't mean she's not like a little sister to me. So I'm naturally a little curious about this newcomer she's so clearly taken with."

Jesse shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "Not much to tell, really. As far as she goes, look, I've only been here two days. She seems like a cool chick, and I just wanna get to know her better, that's all."

The Alaskan native smiled. "Honest. Works for me." He picked up the trash bag and trotted down the steps to the dumpster.

His path now cleared, Jesse hurried down to the street. "So we're, like, cool, man?"

Alan heaved the trash bag into the dumpster with a grunt of exertion that melted into a laugh. "Yeah. We're cool." He brushed his hands off on his jeans. "Go on, 'man', get outta here."

"Right," Jesse nodded sheepishly. "Night."

"Night."

With that, Jesse turned and made his way back to the hotel. As he climbed the stairs to his room, he idly wondered if, along with this wardrobe, he should change the way he spoke. He realized dully that he'd hardly sworn out loud since he'd gotten off the bus. That was a good start. The rest would surely follow. He crawled into bed satisfied with that conclusion, and drifted off quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep came less easily for Maggie. She cleaned up the take-out in a giddy haze, and found herself humming as she changed into her PJs and brushed her teeth. She flung herself onto her bed with a happy sigh. When she closed her eyes, she could see his face, backlit by the light from her open door, but she could make out his smile – the biggest she'd seen from him yet. Remembering it made her heart beat faster.

_'And that kiss!'_ The first had been as awkward as she'd expected, but nice nonetheless. The second one though. She hadn't been prepared for the intensity. She put a hand to her cheek – she had felt _his_ hands tremble as he'd held her face. Had that been from fear or passion? Both maybe. She rolled over, hugging her body pillow close. She hadn't been kissed like that in…She'd _never_ been kissed like that. She smiled to herself. The morning couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

><p><em>'C'mon…time to cook.'<em>

Jesse woke with a choked scream, gripping the blankets so tight he could feel his nails digging into his palms. Panting, he clutched at his head, willing the gruesome faces behind his eyelids to vanish. With a groan, he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Without sheer exhaustion to knock him out, would he ever have a good night's sleep? Maybe finding a job in manual labor was the answer. If he worked himself ragged, he could just pass out at night, and then the demons of his past would be smothered.

He looked at the clock on the nightstand. 5:28 AM. He didn't want to go back to sleep, so he showered, dressed and headed out to Josie's on his own.

The diner was full this time, and the atmosphere was not unlike the bar had been his first night. The crowd, mostly men ranging from teens to seniors, filled the booths and the barstools, and the room was filled with the din of conversation. From behind the counter, Josie looked up from refilling coffee and waved at him. He nodded at her, and hung back by the entrance.

The older man who was the recipient of the refill turned around, spotted him, and smacked the young man seated next to him on the arm. "Get up, Jr. Let the newcomer have a seat." The younger man frowned, rubbing his arm, but rose from his seat. "Come on, son, have a seat."

"Ah, n-no, that's ok!" Jesse stammered. "I can wait, really."

"Don't be silly. Sit!" The white-haired man patted the seat. "We've been wanting to officially meet you."

Resignedly, he crossed over to the bar. "Um, thanks I guess."

"Name's Jack Wallace Sr." He stuck out his hand.

Jesse wondered if he'd ever run out of hands to shake in this town. _'There's only 550-some total…gotta get through 'em all eventually.' _ "Josh Carpenter," he said. It was getting easier, this new name, the more he said it.

"This here's Jack Jr." The older man jerked a thumb at the younger, who also offered his hand. Once it had been said, Jesse could see the resemblance. Both men had the same square jaw, and light green eyes.

Jack Jr. held the handshake a bit longer than Jesse felt comfortable with, and said, "Was that you we spotted sneaking out the back way of the bar with Maggie last night? Alan wouldn't tell me nothin' when I asked."

"Uh, I–"

He was saved from having to answer as a new hand came in and smacked Jack Jr. upside the head. It belonged to a large man with red sideburns growing down out of his John Deere cap. "Lord, boy, what'd I tell you 'bout manners? You'll have to excuse him, son, some people just ain't got no decorum, I tell you what. You can call me Big John."

Jesse shook the man's hand. _'I oughta just start a receiving line.'_ "Nice to meet you, sir."

"See?" Big John glared at Jack Jr. "Calls me 'sir' and everything." The young man rolled his eyes and strolled off down the bar. "I gotta tell you, son. Every boy that's come through this town in the last five years has made a run at Maggie, but ain't none of 'em had the luck that you've got."

Jesse felt his face grow hot. "No way, huh? Well, luck's gotta be it, but I figured I'd run outta that years ago." Josie put a full mug of coffee in front of him and he snatched it up. "She's, uh…she's really something though."

"That she is," Big John said. Beside him, Jack Sr. nodded. "Go on then, eat. We gotta shove off soon."

"You all fish, huh?" Jesse asked.

Big John chucked. "On good days, we do."

"Any of you guys, like, hiring?"

The two older men exchanged a look. Big John patted his shoulder, smiling. "Put a little meat on those bones, son. Then come see me." With that, he lumbered off back to his booth.

Jesse frowned, climbing up on his barstool at last. Josie set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He looked up at her, confused.

"I took a guess," she said, giving him a small smile.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and picked up a fork.

"How come you're looking for work so soon?" Jack Sr. asked. "Word on the street is you've got more than enough money to last you a good long while."

_'That's what you get for flashin' your cash around, idiot.'_ He stuck a forkful of pancakes in his mouth and mulled over his answer while he chewed. "I like to work," he said at last. "I don't do so good with nothin' to do all day."

"Sounds like my son," the older man chuckled. "But work out on a fishing boat can be back breaking, and not always rewarding. Take the time you've got, with the money you've got left, and look around. There's quite a few businesses in town that could use an extra set of hands. If you've got the option, don't settle for the first thing, is all I'm saying."

Jesse swallowed another mouthful and nodded. "Yeah, sure, uh, sir."

Jack Sr. patted him on the back. "You'll be fine." He finished his coffee and set it down. "See y'round, son. At the bar tonight, most likely!"

"Not really any other nightlife, huh?" Jesse asked with a smirk.

"Nope," Jack said. "But it's Wednesday! That means Open Mic tonight! Wouldn't wanna miss that, even if there was someplace else to go." He stood, as, Jesse noted, were most of the other patrons. They pulled jackets down from hooks on the walls and filed out. Big John gave him another pat on the shoulder and Jack Jr. waggled his eyebrows in a way Jesse didn't really like. And just like that, it was just him and one elderly couple left. He turned back to his pancakes, which he was able to finish without interruption. Josie gathered up tray after tray of dirty dishes around him, and then vanished into the kitchen. When he'd finished his coffee, he set a twenty dollar bill under the mug and got up to leave.

As he did, he heard the sound of dishes clinking behind the swinging double doors and paused. Then, with a decisive nod, he hopped up and over the bar. "Hey Josie? Need any help with those?"

* * *

><p>"So Alan was pretty tight lipped about it, but I thought I saw you duck outta here last night with that newcomer in tow."<p>

Maggie looked up from the glasses she'd been washing to see the owner of the establishment leaning over the bar, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, Wy, you did," she said, trying to look put-upon. She couldn't help but smile though, and the gray-haired man slapped a hand down on the bar, as if he were proud of his deductive skills.

"I knew it!" he said, grinning, his teeth bright white against his weather-worn skin. "Now, I know it's not my place." He straightened his bolo tie. "But don't you think that's a, uh, a bit, er hurried?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," she said, one hand on her hip. "And no, it's not your place. And also no, I don't think so I _am_ rushing things. I wanted to have dinner with an interesting guy – _away_ from all the yahoos. Is that too much to ask?"

"You're right, you're right." Wyatt raised his hands defensively. "Sorry to step on any toes there."

She pursed her lips, eyeing him. Didn't hurt to make him sweat a little. "You're forgiven. Honestly, I know Alan and Wendy can be gossip hounds, but I expect better for you, Wy."

He turned his gaze away, abashed. "Call me old fashioned if you want to, but I can't help but worry about you," he said.

"You're not my daddy and even if you were, I'm twenty-six years old," she reminded him, "I'll worry about myself thank you. And he's a nice guy. You should talk to him."

"I plan on it."

"And don't go trying to scare him off."

"I wouldn't think of it," he said, flashing her his best innocent smile. Then he turned on his heel and returned to his office.

Maggie shook her head. She knew generations of sexism, even in the well-meaning over-protective type, was hard to fight, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She leaned back against the shelves of liquor, arms folded across her chest. She also didn't have to like the implication that her judgment wasn't reliable. It might have been true when she was younger, but only Wendy knew that. And she wasn't a dumb kid anymore. _'Still…he __**is**__ a recovering addict…'_ The admission had been a huge gamble on his part, she knew, and she respected that. Especially doing so right off the bat.

Her phone beeped and she pulled it from her apron pocket. A text from Wendy read, _'I'll be over for lunch. Be ready to spill!'_ Maggie stuffed the phone back in her pocket. This was the main problem with a small town. It was nearly impossible to keep your business to yourself, which made it tricky when you were still _figuring out_ your business yourself. At least Wendy would have a better attitude than the men.

Wanting to think of something else for a bit, she pulled her phone back out and shot a text to Alan. _'Planning to do 'I Wonder' at Open Mike tonight – can I count on an assist?'_

Her answer came back almost immediately. _'You got it!'_

Grinning, she pocketed her phone and set about rearranging the tables to clear a space in the corner for the evening's performers.


	6. Chapter 6

Jesse dried his hands on a dish towel, rolled his sleeves back down and stepped back from the sink proudly. "Done!"

Josie stepped out from her office. "Well look at that!" She clapped him on the back, roughly. "You saved me quite a bit of time this morning. Thanks."

"Sure," Jessie said, draping the towel over the edge of the sink. "Anything else I can do?" he asked, looking up at her.

She shook her head. "Nah, you've done enough. You go on now."

With a twinge of dejection, he nodded. "Yeah, ok. See ya later then."

"I'm sure you will," Josie said. She put a hand on his shoulder and steered him towards the double-doors. "Feel free to grab a cookie on the way out."

That cheered him some, and he savored the shortbread biscuit as he emerged into the bright sunlight. _'What now?'_ He looked at his wrist only to remember he had no watch. _'Well, that's something I can fix.'_ He wandered down the street towards the General Store. The 'Closed' sign was still on the door and without a timepiece he couldn't tell how long he'd have to wait for opening time. Not wanting to go back to the hotel, he meandered up and down the main drag, looking for something open. As he passed a non-descript storefront, the sound of a fist rapping on Plexiglas made him pause. From the other side of the large window, a man around his age was waving at him.

Puzzled, Jesse pointed at his chest to confirm the stranger was indeed trying to get his attention.

"Yeah you!" came the muffled voice from behind the glass. "C'mon in!"

Bemused, Jesse did as he was told, pulling open the glass door and stepping into a room the purpose of which he couldn't quite pinpoint. The walls were lined with records, CDs and tapes, with a desk stacked with players and a soundboard in the center. And behind the desk was the man who'd waved him in. He was tan, with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and big headphones draped around his neck. His t-shirt was screen-printed with the cover of _Abbey Road_. He was grinning as Jesse approached the desk.

"New guy!" he said, extending a hand jovially. "Nick Dio, nice to meet ya."

"Josh Carpenter," Jesse said, shaking yet another hand. "Likewise."

"Have a seat!" Nick said, gesturing at the pair of chairs opposite his station. "Can I get ya anything? Coffee?"

"Uh, I'm good thanks," Jesse said, settling into one of the chairs. "What'da you, uh, got going on here?" he asked, gesturing around vaguely.

In response, Nick placed his headphones over his ears and leaned in towards a microphone directly in front of him on the desk. "How's it going out there, Bear Creek? We're looking to have another fantastic day weather wise – little cooler than yesterday with highs in the mid-sixties but clear skies all day so let's get out there and enjoy it! And to you guys out at sea, hope you can hear us! As always, text requests to the station at 34256! We'll be rockin' out here until quittin' time and then I'll be broadcasting live from Open Mike Night at the Last Stop Bar & Grill, so those of you out there that can't make it can still appreciate all the talent our little town has to offer!" He paused and took a deep breath. "And that's not all that's exciting today folks! I've got our very own resident number five-five-five here in the studio with me!"

The color drained from Jesse's face and his eyes widened. _'Oh, for fuck's sake!'_ He shook his head frantically, scooting his chair away from the desk.

Nick grinned and kept speaking into the microphone. "Yep, I've got the new kid in town here with me, but I'm sorry to say it looks like he's just a little bit shy. Let's listen to another block of awesome 80's Wake Up Jams and we'll see if we can't get this guy to come out of his shell a bit for us when we come back, eh?" He pressed a few buttons on his console, adjusted a dial and then pulled his headphones back down around his neck. "Not afraid of public speaking, are ya, Josh?"

"I-I didn't realize what this all was," Jesse stammered, standing up. "I-I'm not, like, I mean, that's not cool, man!"

"Hey, relax!" Nick said, leaning back in his chair. "Sorry, bro. Most folks are excited to be on the radio – even if it is a dinky little AM station in the boonies. Didn't mean to put ya on the spot there."

Jesse's mind was racing. How was he supposed to keep a low profile if everyone kept giving him special attention? And didn't AM stations reach farther than FM? Had he heard that somewhere? The last thing he needed was someone recognizing his voice. _'Stop it,' _he chided himself. _'You're being paranoid.'_ Still, caution seemed best. "Look, I-I'd just rather not," he managed.

"Hey, no problem," the DJ said, shrugging. "No pressure or anything. It didn't even occur to me that ya might not be cool with it. That's my bad."

"Yeah. N-no, I mean, it's cool. Sorry," Jesse mumbled, feeling his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

"Nah, no worries," Nick said. "Sit down though. You don't mind chatting off the air, do ya?"

Jesse hesitated a beat, then retook his seat. "No, sure."

"Alright, so let's start easy. How're ya liking the place so far?"

"Uh, fine I guess," Jesse said. "It's different. Like, it's crazy being able to see from one end of town to the other from my hotel room. But it doesn't make me feel, like, claustr-claustrophobic? I guess it's all the open air and stuff."

"I hear ya," Nick said, nodding. "I went to school in LA, and can you believe I missed this place? I guess it's hard to take the country out of a guy, am I right? Or are you a former city boy?"

"City," Jesse said before he could stop himself. "W-well, suburbs really. But that can get even more suffocating than the cities, ya know?" _'That was vague enough, right?'_

"Sure, I hear ya," Nick said. "That's one thing I can pretty much guarantee you won't have to worry about up here. At least until Winter. Then you better hope you've got a good book to curl up with. Or, ya know, something else." He raised one eyebrow in a 'ya-know-what-I'm-sayin'?' kinda of way.

"Right, Maggie says it's dark most of the time then. And I guess you get a lot of snow up here too, huh?"

"We do alright for ourselves." The DJ leaned back and put one sneakered foot up against the desk. "So Maggie was giving ya the tour yesterday, huh?"

"Yeah," Jesse nodded, smiling at the memory. "She really seems to love it here. It's almost, like, contagious, right?"

Nick laughed. "Yeah, she's a true-blue convert, that's for sure. And it looks like she's bringing you right into the fold."

"Guess so."

"Well, I hope you stick around Josh. Will I be seeing you at the Open Mike tonight?"

Jesse stood. "Yeah, it sounds like it's the place to be."

"All right then." Nick rose as well. "Thanks for the chat and I'll see ya later."

"Later." Jesse stepped outside, not quite sure what to take away from the exchange. Nick was a little nosy, but so was most everyone in town, he was realizing. He just had to focus on keeping his story straight in his head, and give enough bits of truth so as not to arouse suspicion. It had worked with Maggie so far. Her face flashed in his mind, her sad smile as she'd touched his arm in the clearing yesterday, and he felt a sudden pang of guilt for lying to her. _'Not exactly lying,' _he told himself. _'And who the hell would believe the truth anyway?'_ His whole sordid history sounded so outlandish when he tried to put it in simple terms, anyone who wasn't there to witness it would think it had to be fabricated.

_'Maybe that's how I oughta start thinking about it too,'_ he thought. If he could tell himself if was all fiction, just a horror story written for a schadenfreude-hungry audience, maybe he's start to believe it. Maybe that would finally bring the nightmares to an end. He felt a shiver run down his spine and he hugged himself instinctively. Then, realizing he was still standing outside the radio station, he hurried away down the street.

* * *

><p>As 11:30 rolled around, Maggie heard the front door of the pub swing open and waved to her friend. "Hey!"<p>

"Hey girl!" Wendy sing-songed. She breezed into the room, big blonde hair piled high in a loose bun on top of her head. "A little birdy told me you might've been 'entertaining a gentleman caller' yesterday evening!"

"Is 'little birdy' what we're calling Alan these days?" Maggie asked with a smirk.

"Oh hush," Wendy said, hopping up onto a barstool. "And spill it – you really took Josh upstairs last night?"

"Nothing happened!" the redhead said. The blonde gave her an incredulous stare. "Ok, maybe we kissed." Wendy let out a tiny excited gasp. "Maybe twice," Maggie said. "But that was it! I wasn't about to go jumping into bed with some guy I barely know. And I don't appreciate the insinuations I've been getting all morning to the contrary," she added huffily.

"Oh, you know we don't mean nothin' by it," Wendy said. "Things get so quiet around here, that's all. This is excitin'!" She bounced in her seat and leaned forward, her elbows on the bar. "So how was he?" she asked, voice lowered.

Maggie darted a glance towards Wyatt's office. The door was closed. She leaned in as well, and said in a hushed tone, "Good. Like, _really_ good."

The older woman covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. "Really?"

"Really," Maggie nodded. "I mean, he seems so quiet and chill, right? But there's like…this intense undercurrent. I don't quite know how to describe it."

"Well, you'll obviously have to do more investigating to figure it out!"

Maggie gave the older woman a soft shove. "Oh, stop it. Not that you're wrong. But stop it. I really want to approach this carefully. He's kind of…broken, I think." She turned her gaze to the bar, drawing circles on the lacquered wood with her index finger.

Wendy straightened up. "Oh, oh no sug, don't go at it like that. He's not a project that needs fixin'. He's just a person like anybody else. If you go into this thinkin' you need to change him – I mean, remember what happened with –"

Maggie held up both hands. "I know, I know, Wendy. You don't have to remind me. I know I've been attracted to messes before. But Josh isn't like David. At least, I don't think so. I have to find out."

The blonde regarded carefully, pursing her lips. "Alright, sug. You just be careful alright?"

"I will. I promise." The redhead leaned back against the shelves of liquor behind the bar. "But on the other hand, I don't want to spoil things by overthinking them, especially so early in the game. I mean, I like the guy. Can't we leave it at that for now?"

"You're right, I'm sorry," Wendy said. "I didn't mean to get'cha all worked up."

"It's all right." Maggie brushed a few errant curls out of her eyes. "You hungry? Can I get you anything?"

"I actually told Dale I'd bring him lunch at the shop today. Can I get two BLTs to go?"

The bartender moved towards the kitchen. "Promise you'll be taking him just lunch and not gossip?"

Wendy laughed. "He's my husband, sug! He's no fun to gossip with."

Maggie smiled. "Two BLTs coming right up then."


	7. Chapter 7

Jesse found himself down at the docks, pacing among the recreational boats up on trailers, kicking at the gravel. He didn't know what to do with himself. His plan had always been just getting this far. He hadn't thought further ahead than that. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his head. If he was going to make it and not drive himself crazy, he needed a plan more detailed than 'survive.' _'God, I need a hobby,'_ he thought sardonically.

He used to have interests, didn't he? Somewhere, a lifetime ago, before he'd become too strung out and abused to care, who had he been? Surely some part of that long-past self could help identify this new one. He sat down on a nearby piling, mulling it over. He thought of his old wooden box; that long ago shop class. _'I should'a picked a different last name,'_ he thought with a smirk. _'It'd be pretty cliché to get into woodworking with a name like Carpenter.'_ Still, maybe. He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and thought of Maggie. He was suddenly struck by the urge to go see her, but he stayed put. _'Don't be clingy, man. Be cool.'_ It was hard to be cool, though, when he could still taste her on his lips.

He let out a low, frustrated growl and put his face in his hands. _'God, you're such a fuckin' yo-yo, Pinkman.'_ His head was such a mess; would he ever feel right way up?

"You ok, new guy?"

He jerked his head up, startled. A lanky man at least ten years his senior was standing in front of him, eyeing him over orange-tinted sunglasses. Jesse knew he'd seen him before, but where? _'Wendy was sitting on his lap that first night at the bar.'_ "Y-yeah, I'm fine," he said.

"Josh, right?" the tall man said. "I'm Dale." He didn't extend his hand, but rather kept them both in the pockets of his jeans.

Jesse was stumped. What now? "Is this, uh, your pier?" he asked, feeling stupid the moment it came out of his mouth.

Dale chuckled. "Nah." He pulled his hands out of his pockets to adjust his cap, revealing a deeply receding hairline underneath. "I own the bait & tackle." He pointed and Jesse followed his gesture to a small store positioned across the street. "I was cleanin' my windows and saw ya out here. My wife's always sayin' I'm not 'personable' enough." He made air-quotes as he said it. "And seein' as how she's due any minute, I knew she'd chew my ear off if I didn't come over here and check on ya."

_'At least he's honest.'_ Jesse couldn't help but grin. "Thanks, but I'm ok. Just, uh, just doing some thinking."

"Ain't that just the worst?" Dale shook his head.

"What?" Jesse asked.

"Thinkin'!" Dale said with a wry smile. "I avoid it if I can."

Jesse couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, it usually gets me into trouble," he admitted.

The older man shifted his weight, adjusting the too-large buckle on his belt. "All right, well, I'll leave ya to it then. But you'll back me up if my wife makes a fuss about me not being 'neighborly', right?"

"Sure, you got it," Jesse said.

With a parting nod, Dale strode off back across the street.

Jesse shook his head. _'Even the people who'd rather leave me alone can't leave me alone.' _He got to his feet, deciding he didn't need to still be there when Wendy arrived. He guessed the General Store had to be open by now, so he started the short trek back to the main drag.

Sure enough, the sign on the door had been flipped to 'OPEN'. He stepped inside and craned his neck, trying to spot the proprietor among the over-stuffed shelves. "Yo-er, hello?" he called out.

A head popped up from between two aisles but it wasn't the old man from the first day. It was a woman, with graying once-black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. "Oh! You must be Josh," she said, smiling at him as she walked over. "I'm Amy – Paul's wife."

Jesse extended his hand automatically, but the woman spread her arms and hugged him instead. He let his arms go limp at his sides and just stood there awkwardly until she released him. Then the awkwardness lingered for what, while realistically was probably only seconds, felt like days to him as he tried to remember why he'd come in the first place. "Um, yeah, ok," he managed. "Uh, so where's Paul?" he asked, trying to buy himself time.

"His back was bothering him more than usual, so I made him take the morning off," she answered. "He can be a stubborn jackass, but so can I." She laughed. "So, what can I do for you today?"

With relief he remembered what he was looking for and she pointed him back upstairs to the loft where he found a modest selection of timepieces on a rotating stand. With dismay, he couldn't find a single one that was digital. _'Oh, don't be a baby,'_ he chided himself. _'You can tell time.'_ Besides, it was his old self's habit to always look for a shortcut. His new self would work with what he was given. He plucked a non-descript black-leather banded one from its spot and trotted back down the stairs.

Amy had moved behind the counter. "All set?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said, setting the watch down in front of her. "How much?"

"Ten bucks," she said.

He slapped down the cash and began tugging the timepiece from its packaging. "Thanks again," he said, struggling to work the band one-handed. "And, um, tell Paul I hope he feels better."

Without the slightest hesitation, Amy reached over and strapped the watch on for him, twisting the dial to bring it to the correct time. "I will, hon. You have a good day now."

He pulled his hand back, feeling his face and ears burn. "Y-yeah, you too." He took a few hesitant steps backwards, and bumped up against an endcap display of canned goods, knocking a few to the ground. "S-sorry."

She put a hand to her mouth, and he knew she was trying not to laugh, to spare his feelings. Which only made him blush harder. "No worries, hon," she said, coming out from behind the counter. "We've got pretty cramped quarters here. Happens all the time."

She crouched to pick up what had fallen, and he hurriedly dropped to his knees beside her. "N-no, I got it."

"You're sweet, hon, thanks." She patted his shoulder and then stood.

He gathered up the fallen cans and replaced them with care. "So is it, uh, just the two of you working here?" he asked.

"We've got three sons," she answered. "Our oldest, Jason, is awaiting the day Paul retires so he can take over, but he's got a little one at home with a summer cold today." As he stood, she gestured at the wall behind the counter, where a number of photographs were pinned. He scanned them as she spoke, trying to determine which dark-haired man was which. He supposed the wedding photo would be the eldest. "Brian, our youngest is a sophomore at the University in Anchorage – he just got back for the summer, but we're pretty sure he won't settle here when he's finished with school." The one in the high-school cap and gown, no doubt. "And our middle boy, Richard, will be here for the afternoon shift." Jesse's gaze settled on the last photo and was surprised to recognize the redhead who had a tattooed arm around the stranger's shoulders.

_'Wha…? But Big John said…' _ He shook his head. One photo didn't mean anything. But he couldn't help the jealous twinge in his stomach. He did his best to ignore it and said, "Guess I'll be meeting them all soon enough."

Amy stepped back behind the counter. "I'd hope so. You're sticking around a while, right?"

"Yeah, I was planning on it."

"Good," she said. "Don't be a stranger now, got it?"

"Sure," he nodded. "I'll see ya around then." He turned and, careful to avoid the endcap, exited the store. He debated internally about where to go next. To the bar to see Maggie? Back to the hotel to be alone? It would be nice to go back up the mountain and find that clearing, but he didn't want to risk getting lost.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the gaggle of kids careening down the street until one of them ran smack into his legs, nearly knocking him over. "Oof! Sorry, Mister!"

Jesse steadied himself and looked down. The urchin who'd hit him couldn't have been much older than eight, and was looking up at him through a mop of shaggy blonde hair, baring a smile that revealed missing front teeth. Charmed despite himself, Jesse asked, "What's the rush, kid?"

"Billy said there's a moose raiding Ol' McMillen's garden!" the child told him, breathless with excitement. "Wanna go see?"

_'Well, what the hell else do you have to do?' _he asked himself. He shrugged. "Why not?"

* * *

><p>Sure enough, after jogging a few blocks to keep up with the excited grade-schooler, Jesse stopped dead in his tracks as the pavement turned to gravel and the house at the end of the street came into view. It was small, but it sat in the middle of a large lot that was overflowing with vegetation. And happily lunching on a row of greens was the biggest animal he'd even seen. It was close enough to the fence that he could see it stood a good three feet taller than the posts. "Holy-!" Instinctively, he reached out and caught the boy who'd led him there by the collar of his shirt. "Hold it, hold it! What're you doing?"<p>

"I wanna get a closer look!" the boy replied, trying to wriggle loose. He pointed, and Jesse spotted half a dozen other kids clustered at the end of the driveway.

"Oh shit…" Jesse stood, frozen in place, head spinning. How was he supposed to get them away from it? Any shouting or sudden movement would surely disturb the animal. _'Those fucking things get hit by cars…and win!'_ The boy was still squirming. Jesse crouched down and wrapped his other arm around the boy's shoulders. "Are you crazy?" he hissed. "That thing's dangerous!"

The child turned and gave him a quizzical look. "I wasn't gonna throw rocks at it or anything," he said, whispering as well.

At that moment, the moose raised its head and turned to gaze at its audience. At the sight of the span of its antlers, Jesse felt his stomach flip-flop. At the end of the driveway, the group of kids started collectively backing away. The moose gave a loud snort and they broke into a run, scrambling past Jesse, who needed no additional motivation to start moving himself. He scooped the boy up under one arm and hurried off after the others, not stopping until he caught up to the pint-sized group a few blocks away.

He set the boy down and then clutched at his chest, feeling his heart racing inside it. A small tittering sound emitted from the group, and to his surprise, soon all of the kids were laughing!

"Oh man," said the tallest of the group, a black-haired boy in a Nintendo t-shirt. "That was awesome!"

Next to him, a girl with frizzy brown hair pulled back in pig-tails asked, "So who ran first?"

A chorus of "Not me!"s sounded. Then the blonde-haired boy turned towards Jesse. "You OK, Mister? You look like you just ran a marathon or somethin'."

Jesse took a deep breath and straightened up. "Is that…" he panted. "What you guys…do for fun around here?"

"Doesn't everybody?" the pig-tail girl asked.

"Oh!" an Inuit boy said, grinning. "You must be the new guy! My Uncle Duke told me about you!"

"He did, huh?" Jesse said.

"Yup," the boy nodded, then held out his hand. "I'm David. Your name's Josh, right?"

_'It must be something in the water,'_ Jesse mused as he shook the boy's hand. _'Or maybe they teach this shit in the school.'_ "Yeah, nice to, uh, meet ya."

And just like everywhere else he went, the kids practically lined up to introduce themselves. The tallest boy was Billy. The pig-tail girl was Julie. There was another girl with red hair and freckles named Katie. And the boy he'd first met was Blake. "Thanks for the ride earlier," he said with a laugh.

"Heh, yeah. So do, like, your parents really let you wander around town looking for wild animals?" Jesse asked, surveying the group.

"Weeelllll…" Blake rocked back and forth on his heels, hands behind his back. "Maybe?"

"It's summertime," Katie said, twisting the hem of her yellow sundress in one hand. "Mostly they just say go play outside."

"They don't usually get too specific," Julie added.

"Right." Jesse crossed his arms across his chest. "But if I told them, they probably wouldn't be too cool about it." The worried expressions that settled over the group almost made him feel bad for teasing them. He bent down, leaning over with his hands on his knees. "On the other hand, maybe you promise not to do crazy-dangerous stuff and I forget I saw anything?"

The instant shift from frowns to smiles was remarkable. They all began nodding.

"Alright then." He straightened up again. "So – anybody know where a guy can get some ice cream in this town?"

"But it's lunchtime!" David said.

Jesse smiled. "Sounds like a good lunch to me."

Blake reached out and grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "There's a gas station that has a cooler full of Mr. Goodbars and stuff, c'mon!"

Grinning widely, Jesse let himself be led away by his new pint-sized posse.


	8. Chapter 8

Seated at the empty bar, Maggie looked up from the Day-Planner laid out in front of her to check the clock. 4:45 PM. _'Almost.' _ As if on cue, the front door swung open and her relief breezed in. "Fear not! I've come to save you from this monstrous crowd!"

Maggie laughed. The woman who'd entered the room was a few years her senior, with brown hair cut pixie-short and a flair for the sarcastic. "Oh, I don't know what I'd do without you, Liz," the redhead said, playing along. "It's just been a madhouse all day!"

Liz dropped her over-sized purse behind the bar, grinning widely. "You know you love me," she said, hand on her curvy hip. "I even came in early so you can go beautify before your new boy-toy gets here!"

"My what?" _'Damn it, Alan…'_ "He's not – and who says I need to –"

"Oh, please," the brunette waved a hand at her dismissively. "You know you want to. You're going to be playing tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

"You should wear the white sundress – ooh, pair it with some cowboy boots! Super cute! He'll be all over you before you even finish your song."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Take it easy, all right?" She closed the Day-Planner (next month's event schedule could wait) and hopped down from her stool. "Is this town so boring that my pseudo-love life is all anyone can talk about?"

"Of course it is!" Liz said with a hearty laugh. "Seriously, we need to take a long weekend and go into Anchorage before this summer is over. I need some skyscrapers and Starbucks like nobody's business."

The redhead smiled and shook her head, curls bobbing. "We'll see if we can't arrange that," she said. "For now, I'm going upstairs. And for the record – " She poked a finger in her friend's direction. "Just because I'll probably wear that white sundress does not make you right. So no gloating."

Liz crossed a finger over her chest twice. "Wouldn't dream of it. Now get outta here." She put a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder and shooed her off.

Maggie took the fire escape steps two at time. She couldn't even feign being indignant with Liz. Mostly because her friend would see right through it. And she did have _impeccable_ taste when it came to clothing. It was hard to argue with her recommendations, which we nearly _always _right. Maggie sifted through her closet and extracted the white dress. It was embroidered with rustic-style lace and a few layers of ruffles along the hem of the skirt, which fell just past her knees. She didn't go 'girly' very often, but if she had more dresses like this one, she might be tempted more regularly. Smiling, she hung it on the back of the closet door and began shedding clothing.

As she wrestled to get her skinning jeans off, she paused to turn on her radio. B*witched's "C'est la Vie" came wafting through the speakers and she laughed. Nick was apparently feeling punchy – or maybe someone had called it in. Whatever the reason, she couldn't help but sing along as she balled up her clothes and tossed them in the hamper.

She was still humming as she started the shower running. As she waited for the water to heat up, she cast a glance at the mirror above the sink. _'Not bad,' _she thought, smirking. Generally, she didn't get too down on herself, body-image wise. There were things she didn't think were perfect, of course. She sometimes wished her breasts had grown beyond the A-cup of her initial growth-spurt, but she'd come to terms with it. Plus, the upside was she could get away with not wearing a bra in the colder months when she was always in layers.

She hopped in the shower, letting the running water soak her hair. That was another thing. In her tweens she'd begged every birthday and Christmas for a straightening iron to no avail. Her mother had told her that someday she'd love her curls, and her mother had been right. She couldn't imagine herself with straight hair now. She finished washing and almost shut the water off before stopping short. If she was going to be wearing a dress, that meant she needed to shave her legs. Even though she'd done it yesterday. Stubble and sundresses didn't mix. Once she was sufficiently smooth, she shut off the water.

She dried herself, then twisted the towel around her head. The less she needed to use the hairdryer, the smoother her hair would be. Next, she took longer than was really reasonable choosing her underwear. _'What're you doing? No one's going to see them, what does it matter?'_ she chided herself. That was true. Even if she did invite Josh upstairs later, it would barely qualify as a second date. She settled on a skin-toned pair of briefs that she could count on not to ride up. The dress had spaghetti straps so that meant she needed a strapless bra. The only one of those she had was a push-up. _'That's not sending the wrong message, right? Nah…' _She pulled the dress over her head and scrutinized herself in her bedroom mirror. "Damn, I look good!" she laughed.

She dried her hair, then picked out a few choice pieces of jewelry – pearl-drop earrings, a silver Ankh necklace and wrist cuffs made of well-worn brown leather that matched her cowboy boots. Lastly, she swiped on a touch of lip-gloss. She smiled at her reflection. "Perfect."

She turned off the radio, the lights, grabbed her guitar case and headed back to the bar.

* * *

><p>When Jesse entered the bar, the dinner crowd was just beginning to filter in. After an afternoon tagging along with Blake and the other kids, he was tired yet energized. He ambled up to his corner seat and hopped up, smiling to himself. That smile faded slightly though, when the woman who approached from behind the bar was not the redhead he was expecting.<p>

"Hey there Blue Eyes," the stranger said, smiling at him. "What can I get'cha?"

"Uh, the pale ale?" he answered, "And um, a menu, please."

"You got it," she said, plucking a glass from the drying rack and filling it with a careless ease. "Let me guess, you're Josh, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "And you are?"

The brunette set the perfectly topped glass in front of him. "Liz Banks," she said. "Nice to meet'cha." She pulled a menu down from a shelf and set that down as well. "When you're ready to order, just give me a holler." She then turned away to greet another patron.

"I will, thanks." Jesse picked up his glass and barely had it to his lips when he heard someone calling his new name. He turned and saw an older man in a pressed white shirt and bolo tie approaching him from across the room. "Uh, yes?"

The gray-haired man clapped a hand down on his shoulder, smiling widely. "I just got a call from my daughter-in-law – she says you saved my grandson from a bull moose earlier today!"

Jesse was caught off-guard by the statement. "Huh? Oh, Blake is your – it wasn't really, I mean, um, no big deal?" He put his beer down and extended his hand. "Sorry, I don't think we've met, sir."

"Ah! You're right, you're right! Name's Wyatt Jackson. I own the place." His handshake was the firmest Jesse had felt yet and the man's hand still hadn't left his shoulder. "What're you drinking tonight?"

"Uh–"

"Liz!" Wyatt bellowed. "This young man drinks for free tonight! Pulled Blake out of the path of a stampeding bull moose, he did!"

"Oh no, it's wasn't–"

The brunette bartender drew nearer again. "Didn't know you were the heroic type, Blue Eyes," she said with a smirk.

"N-not really," Jesse stammered, ears burning. "Kids exaggerate stuff."

"Nevertheless," Wyatt said. "My grandson is an excellent judge of character and Anna says you're all he could talk about when he got home. Whatever you did, it made an impression."

The older man's brown eyes had a warmth to them that made the tension is Jesse's shoulders ease. _'He really must love the kid,_' he thought. "I'm just happy nobody got hurt," he said. "To tell the truth, I was probably more freaked out than any of the kids were."

Wyatt clapped his shoulder again. "Well, I'm glad you were there. If you ever need anything, you come on by and see me, alright?"

"Sure, yeah. Thanks."

With that, the older man strode off to mingle among his clientele. Jesse found himself smiling as she turned back to his beer, only to find Liz grinning at him.

"You're making quite the impression, Blue," she said. "Hope you plan on sticking around, because I don't think these people are gonna let you leave."

He let out a short laugh. "Nah, I'm staying." He was just about to open the menu when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"Hey you!"

His heart took a little leap in his chest as he recognized the voice and spun his stool back around. "Whoa! I-I mean, hey, Maggie. Long time no see." She was stunning, like something out of a magazine. Her dress was simple and suited her, the white making her vibrant tattoos stand out. "You look great," he said, hoping he hadn't been staring for too long.

"Thanks," she said, smiling. "This seat taken?" she asked, nodding at the stool next to him.

"N-no, of course not," he said. "You're not working tonight?"

"Nope!" she said brightly, hopping up on the stool and positioning her guitar case between her legs. "I'm all yours for the evening."

Now _that_ was an appealing prospect. He glanced down at her case. He'd never been jealous of an inanimate object before and he had to work to keep his mind from wandering, imagining what it would be like to have her legs wrapped around him. Feeling his face grow hot, he cleared his throat and forced his eyes back to her face. "You, uh, you playing tonight?"

"Singing too," she answered. "Gotta say, it's the first time in years I've been a little nervous about it," she added, ducking her head a bit.

"What, because of me?" he asked, incredulous.

She shrugged but he could see the color rise in her cheeks. "Well, right now I've got you thinking I'm pretty cool. I wanna keep the illusion going, you know? 'White Girl with Acoustic Guitar' can be kinda cheesy."

He shook his head. "Nah. Besides – not like it's a ukulele or anything."

She laughed. "True."

"Can I buy you dinner?" he asked.

"Okay."

Happily, he cracked open the menu.

As Liz took their order back to the kitchen, Jesse noticed Nick setting up his station in the opposite corner of the room. The DJ gave him a wave which he answered with a nod and Maggie noticed the exchange. "Oh that's right! You chickened out of being on the radio this morning," she said, poking him in the arm playfully.

Jesse hunched his shoulders. "Didn't chicken out. He just sprung it on me without asking," he mumbled. He picked up his beer. "Honestly, I don't know why everyone's so interested. I'm not special or anything."

Her expression softened and she put a hand on his upper arm. "I know people can get a little over-enthusiastic," she said. "But they don't mean any harm. Things are pretty tight-knit around here. Hell, the last time they had someone new come to town it was me, and that was five years ago."

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"It's not like there's a factory or something to bring jobs or anything," she said. "And not much of a down-town to attract people either. People get old and pass away at about the same rate that people have babies, so our population has been pretty steady for decades." She twirled the straw of her soda between forefinger and thumb. "Needless to say, we don't get a lot of excitement. You and I are what qualifies up here."

He had to laugh at that. "Gotta say, that wasn't what I was expecting when I decided to move up here." Seeing her smile fade, he reached out and put a hand over hers. "I think I can live with it though." Her smile returned and before he knew what was happening she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. His heart gave another lurch in his chest and when they separated it was all too soon. "W-what was that for?" he asked, keeping his face inches from hers.

"Just 'cause," she said. Then she did it again. He made sure to kiss back and when she pulled away, he found himself leaning forward to keep the contact going for just a few seconds more. "Easy tiger," she said softly, putting a hand on his chest. "Don't want to give them too much of a show, do we?"

_'Shit…'_ He'd actually forgotten where they were. Face on fire, he dared a glance up at the bar. Everyone was looking overly-interested in their drinks. "Damn it. Sorry…" he mumbled.

"Don't sweat it," she said. Her hand hadn't left his chest. Instead, she deftly unbuttoned his top button, exposing the collar of his t-shirt. "It's only a big deal if we make it one, right?"

Her fingers grazed his collar bone and it took all he had not to lose the smidge of composure he had left. With a concerted effort to appear casual, he reached up and took hold of her hand, pulling it away from his body though every nerve was screaming at him to let her continue. _'Don't get carried away, man!'_ "You are _so_ much cooler than me," he told her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She let out a quiet laugh. "You're sweet," she said. "But you haven't seen my act yet."

He nodded conciliatorily, but he knew nothing she could do would change his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

Liz brought their meals with a hefty dose of insincere complaining about how cute they were together ("It makes my teeth hurt!") and then left them to tend the other patrons. They ate as the bar filled to the brim with an even bigger crowd than his first night. Maggie pointed out new faces to Jesse as they entered. "Oh! That's Tanya Anderson. She teaches second grade at the school."

Jesse craned his neck and spotted a slender Inuit woman approaching Duke at the other end of the bar. As they hugged, he asked, "Are she and Duke…?"

"Brother and sister-in-law," Maggie answered. "Her husband Lowell, Duke's brother, is the chef here! I'll have to drag him out of the kitchen later."

"Oh, are they David's parents?"

"How do you know David?"

Jesse found himself grinning. "I met a bunch of kids earlier today. We saw a moose!"

"Ha! No way! You're first wildlife sighting! How was it?"

"Scary as hell," he said. "The kids handled it better than I did, really, but it was cool. In, like, retrospect I mean."

"Always cooler in retrospect," she agreed, spearing a forkful of the salad in front of her. "Ooh, ooh, that's Mayor Woods, just coming in."

Jesse leaned around her to see where she was pointing. Just inside the door, a tall man with a beer-belly and a cowboy hat was shaking hands with Wyatt. "Dude, is he for real?" he asked.

"Swear to God, it's completely non-ironic ," she said.

"Wow…" Jesse turned back to his plate. "And you guys elected him, huh?"

"For quite a few terms, actually," she said. "He's actually pretty cool. He came from some big ranching family down in Montana, but sometime in the seventies he got really into wildlife conservation and moved up here to work with the Park Service. I bet if you could describe it, he could tell you the name of that moose you saw today."

"No way."

"Way!" she said.

As 7 PM hit, Wyatt got up and rung a tiny gong, kicking off the Open Mike performances, which were as varied and odd as the patrons themselves. Two gray-haired men in cowboy hats played 'Devil Went Down to Georgia' on fiddles. A group of late-30-somethings, led by Dale, performed 'Soul Man' as if they were the Blues Brothers. A trio of college-age guys brought their own boom box with a karaoke track of One Direction's 'You Don't Know You're Beautiful' and gave a rousing rendition of the number , dancing among the crowd as they sang. A teenage girl dressed in various shades of black performed a poem she'd composed which didn't have half the angst Jesse had expected. In between acts Nick played an eclectic mix of new and old hits and chatted with the crowd from his station. "Don't be shy folks, we're all friends here! Who's next, hmm? Maggie, I'm getting texts asking when you'll be getting up here! Why keep us waiting, huh? I saw you bring your guitar case with you tonight."

The redhead slid off her stool, scanning the crowd. "Alan?"

From across the room, her fellow bartender stood. "Ready when you are!"

Smiling brightly, she grabbed her guitar case and made her way to the 'stage area'. Jesse watched her slide the strap of the instrument over her shoulder and settle on a stool with it resting in her lap. She fiddled with the microphone stand as Alan joined her on a second stool, a base guitar across his chest.

"Lot of tough acts to follow tonight," Maggie said into the mike. "Am I right?" The crowd applauded. "Ok, here we go!"

Alan began with a simple, infectious riff and she joined him after a moment, strumming gently. It wasn't a song Jesse recognized, but he watched, enraptured as she leaned into the mike and started to sing.

"_I wonder how many times you've been had  
>And I wonder how many plans have gone bad<br>I wonder how many times you had sex  
>I wonder do you know who'll be next<br>I wonder…l wonder…wonder I do_"

Someone let out a wolf-whistle and Jesse felt his ears grow hot. It made him feel better seeing her face was flush as well, though she kept on smiling, strumming, and singing.

_"I wonder about the love you can't find  
>And I wonder about the loneliness that's mine<br>I wonder how much going have you got  
>And I wonder about your friends that are not<br>I wonder…I wonder…I wonder I do"_

She must've picked this on purpose; it was too fitting. He caught her eye and she winked at him.

_"I wonder about the tears in children's eyes  
>And I wonder about the soldier that dies<br>I wonder will this hatred ever end  
>I wonder and worry my friend<br>I wonder…I wonder…wonder don't you?"_

_'Ok, maybe not completely fitting,'_ he thought, feeling a bit less singled-out. _'Still, when have you ever been sung to before?'_ As embarrassing as it was, he had to admit it was kind of nice too.

_"I wonder how many times you been had  
>And I wonder how many dreams have gone bad<br>I wonder how many times you've had sex  
>And I wonder do you know who'll be next<br>I wonder…I wonder…wonder I do"_

Maggie strummed the last chord and then put a hand over the strings. Over the applause, she said, "Thanks guys! Let's hear it for my bassist, right?" She jerked a thumb at Alan, who saluted the clapping crowd as she put her guitar back in its case. The two stood, hugged one-armed and left the 'stage'. As she returned to her spot at the bar, Jesse could see her cheeks were still pink. "Well?" she asked.

"Did you write that?" he asked.

"Oh no! No, that's a song from the seventies," she said, snatching up her glass. "A singer-songwriter named Rodriquez. There's a documentary about him we should watch sometime."

"Ohhh, gotcha," Jesse nodded. "Thought it sounded kinda, like, retro." Nervously, he picked at the cuff of his shirt. After a moment, he asked, "Did you, uh, pick that one because of me?"

"Maybe a little bit," she admitted. "It's also one I know really well and I wanted to pick one I didn't think I'd mess up. But you're right, it kind of has a new-relationship-type feel, huh? Hope I didn't make you too uncomfortable."

"Nah," he said. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Ok yeah. But at the same time I'm kinda, you know, flattered? Not that I want it to be a, like, weekly thing or anything."

"You got it," she said, curls bobbing as she nodded at him. "Now, since I don't have to worry about slipping up a chord anymore, I think I'm ready for a beer."

He smiled and signaled for Liz.

* * *

><p>The performances continued on until about 9 PM and after that Nick took over fully, filling the bar with dance music from all eras. The groups seated closest to the stage area scooted their tables further back and the space became a little dance floor. Maggie bopped in her seat, feeling a bit of a buzz from her second beer. She watched Wendy attempting to pull Dale out of his seat only to give up and accept the arm Alan offered her instead. She glanced over at Josh. He was tapping the bar to the beat with one hand, staring off into space.<p>

With what she hoped was a smidgen of grace, she leaned over, draping one arm over his shoulders. With her lips inches from his ear, she asked, "Dance with me?"

She felt his shoulders tighten and he jerked his head away slightly, though he didn't pull himself out of her hold. "N-not tonight," he stammered. The smile he gave her was tinged with guilt. "Some other time, maybe. But, uh, you think we could get outta here? I could use a little quiet."

So close up, it was hard not to notice the dark circles under his eyes. On impulse, she pressed her lips to his temple. "You got it. Let me square things with Liz and then we can go up to my place."

"I got this," he said, pulling his bill fold from his back pocket.

"You sure?"

"Totally." He laid a few bills down under his coaster and rose from his stool. "Thanks though."

"Alright, but I got next time," she said, dipping down to grab her guitar case before standing as well. "Night, Liz!"

Her fellow bartender gave her a wink and mouthed 'Have fun!' Maggie rolled her eyes and decided not to make eye contact with anyone else as she made her way to the back exit. As he had done yesterday, Josh insisted on holding the doors as they left and even took her guitar case so she didn't have to struggle unlocking her door.

"Here we go," she said as they entered her apartment. She pulled off her boots and left them, with her ankle socks still inside, by the mat. As she stepped further inside, she turned back and saw Josh crouched on the floor, working to unlace his work boots. "Oh, you don't have to –"

"It's no problem," he said. He finished with the second one and set them next to hers. "To tell the truth, I've had them on all day, and they're not like, very broken in yet."

"Ooh," she winced. "I hear ya. Want a soda or something?" She padded over to the kitchenette and began poking around in her little fridge.

"Sure, thanks."

She plucked a pair of birch beers from the door and turned to find him hanging awkwardly in the entryway. "Sit, sit," she said, "You don't ever need an invite to do that here."

"Uh, actually, um." He rubbed his forearm, looking everywhere but at her. "Could I, uh, use your bathroom?"

"Oh! Of course, yeah, yeah, it's just through the bedroom," she said, gesturing at the right door with a can of soda. "Sorry if there's, like, underwear laying out somewhere." She felt herself blush as she watched him do the same. _'Why'd you __**say**__ that? Gah, awkward much?'_

Josh ran a hand along the back of his neck. "N-no, it's cool. I'll uh, I'll just uh, be right back. Yeah." He hurried off into the bedroom.

As soon as he was out of her sight, Maggie scrambled to put music on, queueing up a playlist on her iPod, which rested in a third-party speaker dock on a bookshelf. _'No need to make him even __**more**_ _uncomfortable by listening to him pee – god, what's wrong with you? So much for keeping him thinking you're cool, dork.'_ With an exasperated sigh, she threw herself gracelessly onto the couch, feet dangling over one armrest, and covered her face with a throw pillow. _'Get it together!'_ she scolded herself.

She heard the toilet flush and hurriedly rearranged herself, sitting up and smoothing her skirt down over her knees. She popped open her soda and timed a casual sip just as he reentered the living room. "Hey," she said, giving him a nod.

"Hey again," he said. "Mind if I…?" He pointed at the couch.

"No, no, please sit," she sat, patting the cushion. "Hope you don't mind the music. I tried to pick a chill playlist."

"Yeah, no, that's cool," he said, settling down next to her. "Sorry. About earlier. I actually kinda suck at dancing, and I wanna be a little more established before I inflict that on anybody." He smiled sardonically. "You know, get people to like me first, so if they make fun, I know they don't really mean it?"

"Aw, I'm sure you're fine," she said, patting his knee. "But no worries. I can wait."

"Thanks." He took a sip of his soda. "So, uh, your song before, kinda got me thinking…"

"Yeah?" _'Oh god, I should've picked a song without sex in it.'_ She wasn't ready, but she also didn't think she could say no if he asked. Their kiss before had been agonizingly good.

"Yeah," he continued. "Like, I still don't know that much about you. Isn't there some questions game people play of first dates? To get to know each other?"

She smiled. "I might've seen something like that in a magazine at the salon a while back," she said. "So what, we take turns asking questions and we both answer them?"

"Something like that, yeah," he nodded. "Would you be up for that?"

"Yeah, I'm game," she said. "Should I start?"

"Ok."

"Alright – we'll start easy. Favorite color? Mine's teal."

"Green," he said. "What about food?"

"Oooh, gnocchi with cream sauce and arugula. I had it just once at a bistro down in Anchorage and I've been dying to figure out their sauce recipe ever since," she said, smiling at the memory. "Haven't figured it out yet, but I haven't given up. You?"

"Pizza."

She giggled. "Very uncomplicated. I like that. Ok, let's see. How about favorite movie? Mine would be _My Neighbor Totoro_."

"What?"

"You've never seen it? Oh, I'm adding it to the list. And yours?"

"Hmmm…I'm gonna go with _Ghostbusters_."

"Ooh, a classic!"

"Alright," he said, scratching his chin as he thought. "What was your favorite toy growing up?"

"Oh god – I had this thing, oh what was it called? It was like a crane that held different colored pens and it dangled over paper and these-gear like plastic disks and they would spin and you could make all kinds of weird patterns with them."

"A Spirograph?"

"Yes! Oh that was gonna bug me all night! Thank you!" She hugged him lightly. "I plastered my walls with stuff I drew on that thing. And you?"

"I had a Matchbox collection that was outta this world," he said. "And I had one of the Batmobile, from the first movie, ya know? That was the only one I didn't use when I played demolition derby," he added with a laugh.

"Ha! Nice. Ok, next - I've got three older brothers. Do you have any siblings?"

She watched his smile fade. "One little brother."

"Do you still keep in touch?"

"Hey, it's my turn to ask," he said. He took a long sip of his soda. "But no. My folks, they uh, they kicked me out when I started using and I haven't seen any of them since."

"God, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to bring this down so fast."

"Nah," he shook his head. "It was years ago. But hey, you already know my big, dark deal – what was your drama that you moved up here to get away from?"

His eyes were imploring, though his tone had been casual. _'That's true, he __**did**__ tell you right from the start. It's probably only fair...' _"My ex-husband."


	10. Chapter 10

"You were _married_?" Jesse asked. He put his soda down.

Maggie nodded, a wan smile on her lips. "Yeah. You want the cliff notes version?"

"Uh, n-not if you don't feel comfortable," he stammered.

"Nah, it's ok." She took another sip of her soda and then set the can down. She shifted on the couch so she was facing him, tucking one foot under her other leg. "It was ages ago. We were eighteen, stupid, horny, and thought getting married was the best way to have sex without our parents jumping down our throats. His dad was a minister, and super-conservative, so it just seemed easier. So instead of thinking about college, he got a job with a local logging company and I started waitressing. We rented this hole in the wall studio apartment and…'played house' is the best way I can describe it."

She leaned back, hand on her shin. "He had…has, something a little off. Like, it's never been diagnosed, but Web MD makes me think he might've been manic-depressive. Because for months everything would be great – he'd be super-attentive, and fun! He was the life of every party. And then, on a dime, his mood would totally change. He'd withdraw from me; get angry at the littlest things. He wouldn't want to go to work. I had to force him and he'd resent me. And then a month or two later he'd suddenly be back and be so sorry and he loved me and I made excuses for him to myself and we'd start the whole thing over again."

"It went on like that for three years," she said. "Until finally, during one of his 'downs' I had the nerve to ask him to get help and…he hit me. And that was it. I packed a suitcase, drove to my parents' house and filed for divorce the next day. He signed the papers and I thought that was that, but after a few months he was 'up' again and he decided he changed his mind. He started following me around begging me to go back to him. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I quit my job and moved up here. My parents won't tell him where I went, and last I heard he'd given up trying to find out."

Jesse shook his head. "Jesus," he said quietly. "Sorry."

"Nah." She picked up her soda again. "Like I said, it was ages ago. Yeah, it sucked, but I learned from it, and I'm doing all right."

He ran a hand through his hair. Of all the things he'd imagined, a previous marriage hadn't crossed his mind. To be fair, marriage wasn't something that often crossed his mind generally. "So have you, uh, dated since then?" he asked.

"No," she said and then laughed at what must've been his surprised expression. "I just felt that, while I was so busy defining myself in relation to my ex, I hadn't really defined _myself_. So I've been working on that. And to be honest, I never really felt ready before."

_'But what about that picture in the General Store?'_ He was dying to ask, but couldn't figure out how to do so without coming off badly. "What made you feel ready now?"

"I figured five years was long enough," she said. She took a sip of soda. "Doesn't hurt that you've got, like, _the_ most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen," she added with a smirk, not looking at him.

Jesse felt his ears turning red, but he couldn't help but smile. "Heh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Maggie said. She set the can down. It made a hollow sound as it hit the coffee table. "So what now? You wanna keep playing the game? Watch TV?" She walked her pointer and middle fingers across the couch and up over his knee. "Or we could make out."

"Oh god, yes." The words, practically a gasp, were out before he could stop them. And before he could chastise himself for being too eager, she slid over closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. Fumbling, his hands found her waist. Just feeling her hip bones through the fabric of her dress was enough to get him riled. He shifted slightly, making sure there was air between her and his lap. _'Just to be safe.'_

She brushed her nose against his. "Gotta say, I love your enthusiasm," she murmured.

Her lips were then on his and he was drinking her in as if he'd never get another opportunity. While his mouth worked over hers, his hands roamed her. His thumb brushed against the wire of her bra and he brought his hand back down quickly. She pulled away. _'Shit, Pinkman, you just had to go pushing your luck, didn't you?'_ "S-sorry," he mumbled.

"Hang on," she said and he was surprised to see she was still smiling. Her cheeks were flushed. "This thing cuts into my ribs after a while. She had a hand behind her back. _'What is she–?'_ There was a flash of something whipping past his face and it took him a moment to process that she'd discarded her bra. "That's better," she said, smiling at him. She raised a finger. "That's it though for tonight – got it?"

He swallowed thickly, forcing his gaze away from the neckline of her dress. "Y-yeah. Got it."

"Okay." She kissed him again.

Jesse kept his hands on her hips for as long as he could. Finally, as he felt her tongue touch his, he let his hands creep up over her ribs. His thumbs grazed the underside of her breasts and she let a little moan escape her lips. Encouraged, he shifted his hands higher. He could cup them easily, one in each hand. _'They're adorable,'_ he found himself thinking. He began rubbing little circles over her nipples and he felt them turn hard beneath the fabric of her dress. His jeans were getting uncomfortably tight.

Maggie let out an affirmative murmur. She leaned her head back and he took the opportunity to place his lips on her exposed throat. Her hand was in his hair then, partly tousling, partly tugging. He planted kisses all down her neck and over her collar bone, heartened by the soft moans that kept escaping her lips. Her hand moved slowly through is hair, to the back of his neck, then over his cheek, grazing one of his scars.

Instantly, a dozen terrible images flashed behind his eyelids and he jerked away, jumping up from the couch as if he had no control of his own body. It took all he had to stop there, to not bolt for the door. Heart racing, head pounding, he pushed his fists into his eyes, trying to expel the faces, the cruel laughter, from his mind.

"Wha…what's wrong?"

Maggie's voice brought him back to the room, away from the dark. What could he tell her? He turned towards her, trying to swallow his shame. She was staring up at him with a mixture of worry and fear in her eyes. One spaghetti strap of her dress had slipped down her shoulder. The urge to flee clenched his stomach and he did his best to fight it. He gestured with both hands, as if the right words were somewhere in the air if only he could catch hold of them.

After a moment of struggling, he sat down on the arm of the couch, staring at the floor. "My, uh, my dealer was, uh, not the nicest guy," he said at last. He ran a hand over the scars on his cheek. "And he could get a little rough when you couldn't pay him on time." It had a grain a truth. It fit into the story he'd already established. And the humiliation at having to admit being abused was painfully real, as were the tears that were cresting behind his eyes. He swiped at them with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Oh my god, Josh, I'm sorry," Maggie said, reaching out for him and then stopping just short. "I had no idea, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have my shit together more than this." He wiped at his eyes again before turning a weak smile towards her. "Talk about a mood-killer, right?"

"Josh…" He was surprised to see tears welling in her eyes too. "Maybe we should just slow down. You've…obviously been through a lot."

"That's putting it lightly," he muttered, sliding back down next to her. She leaned over, so they sat with their arms touching.

"Have you ever, um, talked to anyone about it?" she asked quietly.

"Just you."

She took hold of his hand. He squeezed it. "I know it's hard, but it might help," she said.

He let his head fall back against the couch cushions. "You're probably right. But maybe it'll keep for now?"

"Of course," she said. "When you're ready."

"Thanks." He twisted and reached over with his free hand to right the strap of her dress. Her cheeks flushed. "Sorry to be such a buzzkill. Seriously. I, uh, I was really enjoying earlier."

"Me too."

He raised his other hand, still clasping hers, and pressed her fingers to his lips. Then, slowly, he moved her hand back to his cheek.

"You don't have to–" she started.

"I kinda do." He placed her palm on his face and shut his eyes. The face of his tormentor was waiting behind his eyelids, smiling that dopey, Mayberry smile that both hid and amplified his psychotic nature. _'He's dead, Pinkman,'_ Jesse told himself, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. _'He's gone. It's over.'_ Something soft and warm fluttered across his face, right over the scar that lined the bridge of his nose. Then again on his right eyebrow, on his chin. _'Maggie.'_ She was kissing every place his captor had left a mark.

He could feel tears cresting in his eyes again. And he couldn't stop them.

So he didn't try. Instead, he let her guide his head to her shoulder, let her wrap her arms around him, and cried. He cried for Jane. For Andrea. For Brock. Mostly though, he cried for himself. Groping blindly, he slipped his arms under hers and clasped her back. He could feel her running a hand over his hair, hear her murmuring his new name. He wanted to tell her everything. He knew he never would. So he cried.

After a while he ran out of tears. He swallowed thickly, bracing himself before sitting back up, wiping at his bleary eyes. "So that was a thing that just happened," he said at last.

Maggie brushed his hair away from his eyes. "Do you feel a little better?"

A laugh caught in his throat. "Yeah kinda."

"Can I get you some water?"

"Please."

She rose from the couch and he was left for a moment with his raw nerves and jumbled emotions. He felt less embarrassed than he'd thought he would. More relieved. This certainly wasn't the end of things, but maybe the next time would be less hard, would pass more quickly. He glanced at the clock on her DVD player. 1:18 AM. He stood just as Maggie came back around the couch with a glass of water in one hand. "You're not leaving?" she asked.

"I was thinking I should," he said, taking the glass she offered. "It's pretty late, and people gossip enough around here."

Maggie bit her bottom lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I wish you'd stay."

He took a long sip of water then set the glass on the coffee table. Then, purposefully, he took the few steps needed to close the gap between them, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her good and long on the lips. When they parted he was smiling. "You're too good, you know that? I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

She grabbed his collar and pulled him in for another kiss. "You sure you'll be alright by yourself tonight?"

"Yeah," he nodded. He tucked one of her curls behind her ear. "I will."

"Okay." She nodded, but didn't let him go. Instead she played with his collar, the buttons of his shirt, lips pursed. "I have a different idea," she said at last. "Let's go for a walk."

"At one in the morning?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm not tired, are you?"

"Well, not really, but–"

"Then let's go. C'mon. The sun will be setting in a couple hours. Let's watch it. Let's watch it set, then spin around and watch it come back up again. C'mon."

She was tugging on his shirt like an overeager kid and he had to laugh. "Gotta say, that would be something to see. Let's do it."

A bright smile spread across her face. In a flurry they put their shoes back on and he followed her back down the fire escape to the street. He could hear the music still pounding from inside the bar and was happy to not find anyone on the back steps. With her hand in his, this was a moment he didn't want to share with anyone else.

They wandered back out to the docks and resumed their game from earlier. After all the heaviness, it was a relief to compare favorite cartoons (him – X-Men, her – Batman), childhood career aspirations (him – firefighter, her – country music star), and least favorite vegetable (him – most of them, her – brussel sprouts).

"Wait, you don't like any vegetables?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I didn't say that," he said. "Just not a fan of a lot of 'em."

"How many have you actually tried?" When all he did was shrug, she said, "Well, we'll see about fixing that. We'll hit up the co-op market Saturday morning."

"The what?"

"Oh it's fun!" She linked her arm with his. "Everybody who grows stuff brings what they can't eat themselves and they set up tables all along Main Street. Then they sell it or trade it for other things. And the shops all have mini sidewalk sales. It's something we can only do in the Summer, so everybody looks forward to it."

"Sounds cool," he nodded. "What do you guys do in the Winter?"

"Swap meets in the school gym," she answered. "And, I shit you not, knitting circles."

"You knit?"

"I'm getting pretty good too!" she said. "And it's a great way to pass the time. You get bored enough; I bet you'll try it too."

He laughed. "We'll see."

She hugged his arm to her chest and he realized, with the heart-skipping joy of a teenager, that she hadn't put her bra back on. _'Nice.'_ Was this really what his future was going to be like? They had wandered to the edge of one of the docks, out over the water. The sky was finally starting to resemble evening, its orange hues reflecting across the bay. Maggie released his arm and began tugging off her boots. She stumbled a bit and he put a hand out to steady her. With a wordless smile she thanked him then seated herself at the edge of the planks, bare feet dangling inches from the water. She patted the spot beside her.

Following her lead, he crouched down to remove his shoes and socks. He sat beside her, swinging his legs over the edge. Being taller than she was, his feet hit the water and he nearly choked in surprise. "Jesus! It's freezing!"

She burst out laughing. "What did you expect? It's _Alaska_! These last few days have been about as warm as it gets!"

"You could've warned me," he grumbled.

"Oh, you'll get used to it, you big baby," she teased, bumping playfully against him. "Though I guess we can count you out of the Polar Bear swim come January." He could feel the color drain from his face at the thought and she laughed again. "This is gonna be a fun year," she said. She reached over and put her hand over his.

He shook his head, smiling. "I think you're right."


	11. Chapter 11

_"Good Morning, Bear Creek! Happy Friday and Happy First Day of Fall! That's right, we've got just a few weeks before things really start to get dark around here, so don't forget to get out there and take advantage of the sun we've got! Highs in the mid-fifties today, and we're due to get some clouds rolling in this afternoon. For now though, sunny skies and you're regular eighties Wake-Up-Jams! Enjoy!"_

Jesse woke to Nick's voice on the clock radio, followed by Michael Jackson's 'The Way You Make Me Feel.' He rolled over in the bed and grabbed the pocket calendar next to the lamp. _'No nightmares.' _He marked the day with an 'O'. It was Friday. The week was marked by more 'O's than 'X's. More good nights than bad. It really _was_ getting better. Smiling, he hopped out of bed, crossed the room and flung the curtains open wide. September had daylight at a rate more like back home, and the sun was just rising over the bay. He watched as the ships set off for the day. _'Better start the day myself.'_

He threw on gray sweats and sneakers and headed downstairs.

"Mornin' sug," Wendy greeted him from the front desk.

"Morning," he said, eyeing the basket of muffins in front of her.

"Can I tempt you this morning?" she asked.

"Maybe when I get back," he told her. "Save one for me, okay?"

"Sure thing!"

"Thanks!" He pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool morning air. As he started his stretches, he heard familiar footsteps approaching from down the street. He turned to see Blake and the usual gang of kids jogging his way. "Morning guys!"

"Morning!" they chorused.

"So," he said, surveying the group. "Everybody ready for school? Got all your homework done?"

"I did!" Julie said, beaming.

"We're only a couple of weeks in," David said, shrugging to shift the weight of his backpack. "The teachers are still getting warmed up."

Julie smirked. "You're just jealous 'cause I got your mom as my teacher and you didn't."

"Ha!" he said. "That's what you think. My mom's tough!"

Jesse let them argue good-naturedly while his finished his warm up. As he straightened up, he cut them off. "Okay guys, let's go!"

As a unit, they started their jog towards the school. On the way, other small groups of kids joined in and their number was near three dozen by the time they reached the old brick building on the other side of town. At the end of the front walk Principal Marsha Oliver, a gray-haired woman in a long dress and wool coat, was waiting for them. "Good morning, Mr. Carpenter!" she said, waving.

"Morning, ma'am," he answered. He knelt down to let the kindergarten girl who'd hitched a ride down from his back. "See you later, Lily."

The five-year-old, blonde curls running wild out of her braid, stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then darted away, giggling.

As the other children filed past, the old woman gave him a warm smile. "You certainly do spoil these kids, Mr. Carpenter."

"Nah," he shook his head sheepishly. "I need the exercise anyway. At least I can make sure they get here on time, right?"

"Well, I appreciate it," she said. She turned to follow her charges and then paused. "While I have you here, we're looking for volunteers for our Fall Fair. Might that be something you'd be interested in?"

"Sure," he nodded. "What would I have to do?"

"Why don't you come to the next PTA meeting?" she suggested. "It's next Tuesday evening. We'll be going over details then."

"You got it." He gave her a two-fingered salute and started jogging back down the street. "See you then!"

He made his way around town, careful to avoid the cars as those who lived more remotely drove in for work. As he went, a number of familiar faces hollered 'Good Morning's at him. He returned the greetings with waves and kept moving, reveling in how the run got easier each day. As he climbed the stairs of the motel, he thought about extending his radius, or trying to incorporate the foothills into the path. _'Maybe come Spring,'_ he thought to himself. _'Don't wanna chance it once it's snowy and dark all the time.'_

Wendy was still at the front desk when he entered the hotel foyer. "How'd I do?" he asked her, panting.

The blonde woman checked her watch. "Thirty-seven minutes. You beat yesterday's time! You sure you're not pushing those kids too hard?"

He laughed. "More like trying to keep up with them!" He headed for the stairs to the second story.

"No muffin?"

"I'll get it on my way down," he said. "I'll enjoy it more, like, when I'm not sweating."

"Ha! If you say so."

As soon as the room door had locked shut behind him, he stripped his way to the bathroom, more than ready for a shower. As he waited for the water to heat up, he took a moment to check himself out in the mirror. It was a wonder what a few months could do. He'd gained fifteen pounds, and not all just from fat. There was actually some definition to the muscles in his arms and his chest was less hollow. He ran a hand over his stomach. No six pack, but at least it didn't distend after each meal now.

He hopped in the shower. It was still just as therapeutic as that first time. After he'd depleted that first homemade bar of soap, he'd found out Wendy was the one who made them, and she let him choose what kind he liked best – sandalwood - and had given him enough to last the rest of the year. He'd promised her that even when he finally decided to move out of the Inn, he'd continue to buy them.

He washed his hair, rinsed, repeated. Then he reached for the razor. He didn't trust himself with his beard, it was still too new of a fixture on his face, so he left that to Tom, the barber. No, he bought the razor for 'manscaping'. One of these days he was going work up the courage to make a move with Maggie and he wanted to be ready. So far they'd stayed true to their agreement to take things slow, but the waiting was getting harder. Sure, getting to cop a feel while kissing was great, but he was itching for more.

Just thinking about her was enough to get him worked up. He put the razor back, and then debated 'taking care of himself' then and there. It was another thing that used to come second nature and that he'd had to relearn, embarrassing as it was to admit, even to himself. After being conditioned to feel nothing but pain and numbness, the intense pleasure had been too much the first time. But persistence paid off and he marveled at how normal it felt to take his member in one hand and stroke gently. Bracing himself with the other hand on the tile wall, the water pouring down his back, it only took a few minutes to bring himself to climax. He bit his tongue to keep quiet, then let his forehead rest against the tile as he felt his whole body relax. Maggie's face was now the one he saw when he closed his eyes and he savored the image.

The water was starting to lose its heat, so he shut it off and grabbed a towel. He ran it over himself once, then wrapped it around his waist and stepped back into the bedroom. He perused his closet. _'Which color plaid today?' First day of Fall, how about brown?'_ He dressed, dried his hair, then grabbed his jacket from the back of the desk chair. It was tan, made of a thick, weather-resistant material, with dark brown fleece lining. Amy had recommended it when he'd gone to the general store after the first night that dipped into the forties, looking to add to his new wardrobe. He now owned a parka as well, but that would stay in the closet until the below-freezing temperatures set in.

He patted himself down, checking for his wallet, sunglasses and phone. Maggie had helped him pick out a pay-as-you-go model, and since he really only used it to text her, it worked just fine. He took the stairs two at a time and stopped at the front desk again. Wendy looked up from her magazine. "Finally ready?" she teased.

"Mind if I take two?" he asked.

"Not at all. Tell Maggie I'll stop in and see her come lunchtime." She handed him a brown paper bag from under the desk.

"Will do." He nodded. He placed the fresh baked goods in the bag and folded the top over. "I'll see ya later."

"Later, sug."

He trotted briskly off down the street to the Last Stop. As he pulled the heavy wooden door open, he could see Maggie behind the bar, rolling up silverware in cloth napkins. She looked up and smiled when she saw him. "Hey you!"

"Hey." He walked up and set the bag down on the bar. "Brought'cha muffins."

"Oooh, what kind?" she asked, reaching for the bag.

"Whoa, whoa." He caught her hand is his. "You forgetting something?"

With a smirk, she leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "There. I paid the delivery fee. Now can I see what kind?"

He hopped up onto a barstool, grinning. "Go for it. Looked like some kinda fruit to me."

She plucked one pastry from the bag and held it up to her nose. "Mm, blueberry!" She set it down, then placed its twin down next to it. "Coffee?"

"Sure, thanks."

"Welcome." She poured two mugs, then took a few steps back and hopped over the bar. "Much better," she said, seating herself next to him.

He smiled, wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "You sleep well last night?"

"Great!" she said, peeling the wrapping away from her breakfast. "And you?"

"Not bad." He blew on his coffee then took a sip. "And I beat my best time on my run this morning!"

"No way, cool!" She took a bite of muffin and then spoke around it. "I'm impressed at how committed you are to this running thing. Come Winter though, I think you'll have to switch to using the WiiFit with me."

"We'll see." He found himself watching her. She was wearing a gray cardigan over a green Henley T-shirt and her usual skinny jeans. The sweater was bulky, but it didn't stop him from imagining it gone. So far he'd only be able to touch her clothed, so while he had a good idea of her shape, he could only wonder idly about little things which were occupying his quiet moments more and more frequently. Did she have beauty marks? Birthmarks? Any tattoos other than her sleeves?

"Hey, eyes up here, buster."

Guiltily, he raised his eyes to her face. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You just, you look really good today."

She wiped a few errant crumbs from the corner of her mouth with a thumb. "I just threw on whatever," she said, smiling.

"Well, I think you look good in whatever."

"You're sweet." She patted his leg. "Listen, I want to cook dinner tonight, so let's say you come by around six?"

"Can I bring anything?"

She squeezed his thigh. "Just your sweet self. Oh, and a good loaf of bread from the bakery. I have everything else I need."

He laughed. "I think I can handle that."

"Ok, cool." She picked up her mug in both hands. "So what's on your agenda today?"

"Amy said they're getting a shipment of snow gear in, so I thought I'd go over and help them unload that."

Smiling, Maggie raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you hoping that if you keep volunteering yourself they'll finally relent and hire you?"

He felt his ears turn hot. "N-no, not exactly. Not that that wouldn't be cool. I mean, Brian's back in Anchorage, so I know they could use the help, but I don't wanna ask them if they can't afford it."

"They've got the market pretty well cornered," she told him. "Just ask. Even if it's just part time. I mean, you like being over there, right?"

"Yeah, kinda. Is that weird?"

"Only as weird as me loving this old place," she said, running a hand adoringly over the lacquered wood.

"Okay." He nodded, mind made up. "I'll ask. It can't hurt, right?"

"Exactly!" She leaned over and kissed his temple. "Go for it. And you can tell me all about it at dinner."

He downed the last of his coffee and set the mug down. "It's a date."


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the day dragged for Maggie. Even with Wendy stopping by for the usual gossip, and a small group of tourists coming in at lunch on their way up the mountain to a ski lodge, the clock on the wall seemed to be filled with clear birch syrup, the hands moved so slowly. It didn't help that she was overly anxious for the evening to arrive. She'd resolved that morning that, if Josh didn't make a move to push their relationship further on the physical front, than it would be up to her. She really wasn't surprised that he hadn't tried anything. With his history of abuse, she knew he had a tough time trusting people. She just hoped, that if he felt comfortable trusting her with his emotional vulnerabilities, that he could do the same with his physical ones.

She knew he shared her desire. She could feel the hunger when his kissed her and the eagerness when she let him feel her up. It was with this knowledge that she felt confident enough to take the initiative. _'Now if I can only successfully get through dinner first.'_ When you made up your mind to jump your boyfriend's bones for the first time, especially when the last time had been years ago, it was hard not to just forgo the formalities.

So she chided herself all through her shift, and tried to keep her mind on what she had to do for dinner, mentally running through her recipe while she bussed tables and poured beer. When at last Liz came to relieve her at five, she must've been a frazzled mess, because the brunette gave her the most knowing of knowing stares as she entered. "Uh oh, somebody's been over-thinking how they're gonna get lucky tonight," she said, setting her purse down behind the bar.

Face flushed, Maggie could only manage an embarrassed hiss at her friend.

Liz laughed. "Would you relax? You'll ruin it if you don't. Here." She poured a shot of rum and slid it down the bar to the smaller woman. "You're off the clock now."

"I _am_ relaxed," Maggie said. She downed the shot and felt the warmth in her stomach almost instantly. "And even if I'm not, can you really blame me?" She drew closer, so she could lower her voice. "I haven't been with a guy since my divorce. And he was my first and only. What if I'm too rusty? What if–"

"Ah-ah." Liz filled the shot glass again. "Stop it. You're freaking out. It won't be fun if you freak out. And it's supposed to be fun, remember?"

The redhead took a deep breath and pushed the glass away. "You're right. You're right. Oh god, I haven't been this nervous since my actual first time." She put a hand on her stomach, feeling it doing flips inside her.

Liz wrapped an arm around Maggie's shoulders. "You dig this guy, right?"

"Oh yeah."

"And he digs you too?"

"Yeah."

"Then there's nothing to be nervous about. You guys are young, you're hot, enjoy it! Besides, ten to one says he's just as nervous."

"Yeah?" Maggie asked, hopeful relief tingeing her voice.

"Totally," Liz said. "Now go on, get outta here. And don't worry about making too much noise. It's Friday, Nick will have things plenty loud down here."

Cheeks burning, but knowing better than to argue, Maggie gathered up her things and hurried upstairs. The clouds had obscured the sunset and the wind had picked up substantially. She was shivering as she closed her apartment door. She glanced at the DVD clock. 5:19 PM. _'Do I have time to shower? I guess I can cook while he's here.'_

She shaved extra carefully in the shower and chose a black lace thong and a form-fitting sweater dress to wear. She took a second glance at the pile of shoes in her closet and then decided to go without. She had the heat going well enough that she wouldn't be cold in bare feet, and it would be easier to cook without heels to hinder her.

She had just started to gather her ingredients on the counter when she heard the knock at the door. "Hang on!" She scrambled to get her iPod playing (a Jazz mix) and then opened the door. "Hey!"

"Hey yourself," Josh said, stepping past her, accompanied by a frigid gust of wind. She shut the door behind him. He hung his jacket on a wall hook and then turned to face her. "Whoa! You look awesome."

"Yeah? Thanks," she said. She caught herself twirling a lock of hair around her index finger and dropped her hands to her sides. "Can I get you a glass of wine?"

"Uh, sure, thanks." He crouched to take off his shoes and she moved past him back to the kitchenette. "Never really been much of a wine drinker, but yeah. That's, uh, pretty classy."

"Heh, I guess it's a little fancy, yeah." She popped the cork off with limited struggle and poured two half-glasses. "Sorry, dinner's not ready yet."

"N-no, that's cool," he said, joining her at the counter. "Can I help?"

"Um, sure! Thanks."

He proved to be an eager sous chef, happy to go where she pointed, to wash and chop vegetables and to set her tiny table. As he laid down the silverware, he asked, "Do you, like, have candles or something?"

"Hmm?" She kept her eyes on the stove. The pasta had four minutes left to boil, and the sauce was steaming and she had to keep stirring it to make sure it didn't burn on the bottom. "Yeah, there should be some in the cabinet above the fridge."

He brushed against her as he moved towards the fridge and she felt a little shiver go up her spine. _'Relax, will you? Focus on the food.'_ "The lighter's in the same drawer the silverware was." She snuck a glance at him as he set two pillar candles on the table. Maybe she wasn't the only one thinking this night might be special. "That looks nice. Good thinking."

He came up behind her, snaked his arms around her waist and leaned his chin on her shoulder. "This all smells awesome. When do we eat?"

She smiled and tilted her head to press their temples together. "A few minutes. Can you slice up that loaf of bread you brought?"

"You got it." He kissed her cheek then released her.

A few moments later she was bringing two full plates to the table while he refilled their wine glasses. He lit the candles and she dimmed the lights. In between forkfuls of pasta ala vodka, Josh's face lit up. "Oh! I forgot to tell you! Guess what?"

"Amy and Paul agreed to take you on part time?" she asked, spinning her linguini around on her fork.

"Aw, you weren't supposed to really guess," he said, pouting. "And it's full time actually."

"Oh, that's great!" She put her fork down and reached across the table to grab his hand, squeezing gently.

"Yeah." He smiled. "So I was thinking, now that I'll have some money coming in, I could use some of my savings and look for a place to live that's not the hotel."

She turned back to her food. "I guess three months of hotel living is really enough, huh?"

"I'd like to have someplace where I could, you know, do this kind of thing for you," he said, gesturing at the table. "I'm not that great a cook or anything, but I figure I'll have lots of time to learn this winter."

"Aw, well I'd be happy to give you a few lessons," she told him. "And help you look for a place, if you'd like."

He smiled. "I was actually just gonna ask if you wouldn't mind going with me."

"Sure! How about Sunday? We can check the listings in the paper and then go check some out."

"Great, thanks!"

They finished their meal rather quickly, and then Maggie refilled their wine glasses again. "Welp, that's the end of that bottle."

"That's okay," Josh said, setting their plates in the sink. "It was kinda giving me a buzz, but I don't think I want much more than that tonight."

She laughed, then handed him his last glass. "Alright, we'll call it a night, alcohol-wise."

He took the glass with one hand then placed the other on her hip, drawing her in for a kiss. "Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for your help." She leaned back, took one last gulp of her wine to polish it off and set the glass down on the counter. "In the mood for dessert?" _'God, did I really just use that line?'_ Hoping to mask her embarrassment, she pulled him in for another kiss, making sure to use tongue.

* * *

><p><em>'Did she really just use that line?' <em>Jesse wondered, just able to keep a conscious train of thought while she kissed him. _'Did she really mean it that way?'_ He felt her hands grip his hips, felt her tongue enter his mouth. _'Oh my god, she did. This is…this is really gonna happen.'_ Awkwardly, he managed to place his wine glass down on the counter. He pulled back slightly, hands on her upper arms. "M-maybe not in the kitchen?"

Her cheeks flushed deep pink and she let out a nervous giggle. "N-no, you're right. Let's, um, let's go in the, uh, the other room."

"A-after you." Suddenly very hot around the collar, he started unbuttoning his shirt as he followed her into the bedroom. He'd been in the room numerous times, as it was the only way to get to the bathroom, but he'd tried not to linger, lest she get the wrong idea. He'd wanted to be invited. He just hadn't expected it to be that night.

Her bed was made, with what looked like a hand-made quilt on top. The colors were bright, blues and greens, most likely chosen to stave off the darkness during the months it was most needed. She must've straightened up – the clutter on the dressers was minimal. _'Was she planning this?'_ He realized he'd reached the lowest button on his shirt and lowered his hands, watching her for a cue.

She was pulling the covers down, double-checking the windows to be sure the curtains were shut tight. "Okay," she said, turning back to him. "Sorry, it's, um, it's been a while. Is this awkward? God, it's awkward, isn't it?" She tugged at the hem of her dress, wringing it in both hands. "And I'm just making it worse."

He couldn't help but smile as he crossed the room. "It's okay," he said, running a hand over her curls. "It's been a while for me too." He leaned in and kissed her, first on the lips, then the cheek, then her neck.

She let out a quivering sigh and he felt her hands on his chest. Slowly, she slipped her hands under his shirt and pushed it over and off his shoulders. He shook it the rest of the way off and then put his hands on her hips, continuing to move his lips over her throat. He felt her untucking his t-shirt and was thankful that they'd waited until his daily exercise routine had started to pay off. He straightened up and lifted his arms over his head so she could pull the t-shirt off. "Oh hey," she murmured, tossing the garment to the floor. "You've got more ink than I realized."

He glanced down at the dragon over his heart. "Yeah, I was kind of a poser," he said, blushing. "Should look into getting it all removed.

"Aw, no," she said, running her fingers over the tattoo. "Sure it might not be what you'd pick now, but it's like, your history, right?"

"Guess so." Not wanting to think about his history, he leaned back in to kiss her neck again, moving his lips over her collarbone.

She was tugging on his belt next, unbuttoning his jeans. He almost pulled away, embarrassed by how obviously he was tenting his boxers as the zipper came down, but he forced himself to stay put. _'She wants this. You want this.'_ Cautiously, he gathered up the fabric of her dress in both hands and slowly started lifting. She raised her arms and let him pull it up and over her head. As he let it fall to the floor, he had to snap his jaw shut. "Wow…"

She was very much as he'd imagined - her torso slender and stomach flat. Her skin was like vanilla bean ice cream, with dozens of beauty marks flecked randomly across the paleness. Her breasts were perky and her hips were a bit wider than her shoulders. Realizing his hands were shaking, he placed them on her hips, right on top of the lace band of her panties. When his fingers touched skin instead of more fabric past the small of her back, he bit back a gasp. "Whoa."

She smiled, her fingers running along the waistband of his boxers. "Been saving these. You like?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Good. Now hold still."

Before he could ask why, she gripped both the waistband and the belt loops of his jeans, tugged and then both garments were at his ankles. Exposed to the air, he sucked in a breath. His eyes roamed the room. He didn't know where to look while she stared at him. Suddenly he felt her hands back on his hips and her mouth was at his ear. "Very nice."

"Yeah?" The fact that he'd never gotten complaints before seemed much more trivial now. He felt her teeth tug at his earlobe and his knees nearly buckled beneath him. To steady himself, and to seem less like a fumbling teenager, he hooked his thumbs into the lace of her thong and slid them down, letting them fall to her feet. He ran his hands up her outer thighs than around to her backside, cupping her cheeks in both hands. "I'm not gonna be able to stand much longer," he mumbled in her ear. "Mind if we…?"

In response, she kicked her underwear away and sat back on the bed. He moved to join her, but she grabbed his hips and held him in place. "Hang on, I'm not done admiring yet."

"Wha?" Then one of her hands was running along his shaft and he had to grip her shoulders to keep upright. "Ohh Jesus," he hissed.

"Mmhmm," she hummed, smiling demurely. Her hand slid down, cupping the source of his seed and squeezing.

"Ahh! H-hey now, gimme a break," he managed. "Let me down, will ya?"

"Oh, come here," she said. She released him and slid further back on the bed, holding her arms out to him.

With relief, he kicked his jeans and boxers away and crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees. Placing one leg between hers, he wrapped one arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her. After a moment, she pulled back, breathless. "Sorry, but before we get too carried away – did you bring…?"

"In my wallet," he said, nodding. "You want me to get it now?"

"Maybe just put it on the nightstand. When we need it, we can grab it."

"Sure. Hang on." He pushed away and leaned over the edge of the bed, rummaging around in his jeans. "Got it!" he declared, brandishing the little foil square victoriously.

"Thank you," she said. She ran a hand over his back as he placed it on the bedside table. "Next time I go to the doctor's I'll see about getting on the pill."

"If you want to," he said, cuddling up next to her again. "Now…where were we?"

"Hmm, somewhere around here, I think," she said. To his surprise, she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back against the pillows, moving herself into a position mirroring the one he'd taken a moment ago. Then she was leaning in and kissing his neck and he didn't feel like protesting any longer. He ran a hand through her hair as she kissed her way across his chest, down his stomach, to his hips. Her lips fluttered over his hipbone and he had to concentrate hard not to jerk his hips upwards instinctively. "You've got stretch marks," she said softly.

He followed her gaze. She was tracing the white marks that ran horizontally across his skin. "Growth spurt when I was thirteen," he said. "I promise I was never a pregnant woman."

She laughed and her breath was hot on his member and it twitched without his permission. "Oh, don't worry, I was getting to you," she said. He realized she was addressing his appendage as suddenly she was placing kisses all along the length of it.

"Ohhhhh." He let out a shuddering sigh. He could feel the heat gathering in his belly and he reached out to take her chin in his hand. "M-maybe not so much of that tonight. I don't wanna cum that way, a-at least not for the first time."

She smiled up at him. "Okay, sure." She sat up and straddled him. "This okay?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded. With a shaking hand, he snatched up the condom and tore open the wrapper.

"How 'bout I do that?" she offered, taking the rubber from him.

"Kay."

Deftly, she rolled it down over him. He sucked in a deep breath. Then she was reaching over him, pulling open the nightstand drawer and poking around. Her breasts were right under his nose and he decided in that moment that maybe he believed in a higher power again. How else could he have found himself in this wondrous position?

She pulled a little bottle from the drawer. "Just a little something to help things go smoothly," she explained. She popped it open and poured a dollop of clear gel on her fingertips. She began rubbing it over his latex-clad member and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

He blinked hard twice. _'Focus!'_ He was instantly rewarded for his attentiveness with the sight of her rubbing the remainder on herself. He watched her finger dip between her legs and felt his mouth go dry. _'Don't just sit there, idiot, do something!'_ He reached up and began running his hands up and down her sides. She smiled. Encouraged, he cupped her breasts in both hands. Reveling at the feel of her soft skin under his hands, he moved his thumbs over her nipples, remembering she'd liked that before.

Sure enough, he watched her chest flush and she let out a soft moan. He shifted, propping himself up with one hand and lowering his mouth on her breast. She practically purred. He rolled his tongue over her nipple then, on impulse, sucked slightly. "Oh!" she gasped. "Do the other one." All too happily, he complied, even daring to use his teeth ever so gently. She shifted slightly, drawing closer, and his eyes shot open as she lowered herself onto him.

It was a dozen times more intense than he remembered and he had to wrap his free arm around her tightly to keep her still. Burying his face in her shoulder, he whispered, "J-just give me a minute, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered back. She stroked his back gently. "Just let me know when you're ready."

He could feel her pulsing around him and the heat was building in his belly again. "I…I gotta warn ya…" he said, not looking at her. "I might not last very long this time. Christ, you feel so good…it's just been so long."

"Easy, easy," she said, running a hand through his hair. "They'll be lots of other times. Don't stress too much, okay?"

_'Easier said than done.'_ "Okay. Y-you can go ahead."

He didn't let her go, so she started moving slowly, raising herself up slightly, then back down. He bit his bottom lip. He needed to focus on something other than the exquisite sensation of her movement, so he started kissing her collarbone again. Her breathing was steady, which astounded him. Dare he ask? "Is…is this okay?" he panted. "F-feels good I mean?"

"Mmhmm," she murmured. "You mind laying back?"

"Ah, o-okay." He lowered himself back down against the pillows. He hadn't realized his elbow had locked until he no longer needed it to prop himself up and he winced as he flexed his arm.

She put a hand on the joint, massaging softly. "Sorry about that."

"Nah." He shook his head. "No biggie."

"Okay." She placed both hands on his shoulders, bracing herself, and started moving again. This time, without him holding her tight, she raised herself up so he was nearly out and then back down again until he was buried up to the hilt. Then again, agonizingly slowly. And again.

He watched her, entranced. Each time felt so good it almost hurt. He scrutinized her face. She was quiet, eyes shut, but she was biting her lip, so he hoped she was enjoying herself. _'Still…'_ He felt selfish just lying there, letting her do all the work. There had to be something he could do.

He placed his hands on her hips, running his thumbs over the hollow where her legs met her torso. She let out a gasp. He took that as a good sign and began sliding his hands over her thighs, from her knees to the hip joint and back again, in rhythm with her movements.

Suddenly she grabbed his right hand. Sliding herself all the way down again, she placed his hand over where their skin met. "Touch me," she said softly. "Please."

He was befuddled momentarily. None of the women he'd been with previously had ever asked for this. Actually, none of them had been as chatty. _'Guess that's just her personality. At least she knows what she wants.'_ He ran a thumb down one mound of skin, then the other, feeling her shudder as he did so. Then he placed it over the nub between them and she jerked involuntarily. _'Bingo.'_ He started rubbing in little circles, just like he'd done with her nipples earlier. And just like that, it seemed she had joined him in sensory overload. She pressed herself against him, as if trying to take him deeper inside herself. And the noises she was making were driving him closer to the edge.

He could feel her trembling around him. It was getting to be too much. "J-jesus," he stammered. "I can't – I'm gonna –"

"Go ahead," she panted. "I'll take over." She nudged his hand out of the way and began rubbing herself.

He thanked that higher power he maybe believed in as he arched his back, clutched the sheets beneath him, let out a guttural groan and released into her. Then, in a foggy, wonderful haze, he got to watch her join him moments later, throwing her head back with a moan and internal pulsations that made him see stars. He wanted to hold her, so he spread his arms and grinned up at her.

Returning the smile, she lowered herself down so their chests pressed together, her face next to his, her breath hot on his neck. "Not bad…for a first time," she said.

"That was…oh my god…" He draped one arm over her back. "Yeah I'd say that was pretty good." With his free hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Is it totally weird that I wanted to scream 'thank you' just then?"

She giggled. "Not totally. Only a little. And you're welcome." He laughed and hugged her a little tighter. She nuzzled against his neck. "Oh my goodness, I need to go clean up, but I so don't want to."

"Then don't," he said. "Stay with me a little longer." He turned his head to kiss her hair.

"Sold."

He continued to rub her back, finding his breathing slowing in synch with hers. "Speaking of staying," he said, staring up at the ceiling. "Think it would be okay for me to stay over tonight? After this, I at least owe you breakfast."

She raised her head then kissed him on the nose. "I was just about to ask the same thing. Breakfast will be a bonus."

"You got it." He kissed her lips. "God, you're amazing."

"Keep talking like that I just might keep you," she said. "Okay, I really gotta get up now. Hold still." She hoisted herself up and gingerly lifted off of him. "I'll be quick."

"Don't rush on my account," he called after her. "Take your time. I'll be here." He watched her disappear behind the bathroom door then, with the lovely view gone, he rolled back over to stare at the ceiling. _'You're a lucky son of a bitch, Pinkman.'_ Never once in his long trek north had he ever dared to hope to find himself in his current situation. If he wasn't happy on the verge of giddy, he felt like he might cry. Instead, he found himself laughing quietly to himself.

"What's so funny?" Maggie was standing in the open bathroom doorway, one hand on her hip and a smile tugging at her lips.

"Life," he answered, forcing himself to sit up. "Just in general."

She padded over and leaned down to kiss him. "Well alright then. Bathroom's all yours."

"Thanks." He stood, then nearly fell right back on the bed, his legs shaky beneath him.

Maggie grabbed his upper arms and righted him. "Still falling for me, huh, new guy?"

He laughed then hugged her around the waist. "More than you know." He buried his nose in her hair and, without thinking twice, whispered, "God, I love you."

He felt her wind her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly. "I love you too."


End file.
